Vengeance
by Sweet Lu
Summary: The sequel to Judgement. Deeks life has returned to normal, but the team continues to watch out for him in case the threat made against him becomes real. Suggest you read Judgement before reading this sequel. Includes entire team.
1. Chapter 1

**Vengeance: Chapter 1**

...

Hetty sat solemnly at her desk, a small lamp and her computer screen providing the only light in the room. The small news item Nell had sent her was now added to the file she had been keeping since returning from Washington last spring. She frowned at the latest information before scanning back through a few of the bits and pieces in the sparse file, and then shook her head as she tried to make some sense out of it all. There wasn't much to go on, but Nell had been resolute in the task Hetty had set before her, sending her whatever information she could discover that might lead to the location of Owen Granger. She had been informed that Director Vance had set up a special unit to try and trace him, but she wasn't satisfied with that. Deeks was her agent and she wasn't about to be unprepared if Granger slipped by them and tried to make good on his threat to do him harm.

...

...

Deeks glanced over at his former partner once again as he pulled into the parking lot at Surfrider Beach. He watched him closely as he took his board off the roof and wondered if a surf lesson was what he needed right now. It was very early and the beach wasn't too crowded yet, which would make Joe's lesson a little easier, but he hadn't said much on the ride over and that worried him. He knew he had just come off a tough assignment and he wondered if it had been too soon for him. He had only been certified for fieldwork a month ago and as he watched him remove his shirt he could see a few colorful bruises around his ribs. Surfing had always been his way of decompressing after an assignment, so he figured it might do the same for Joe, at least take his mind off whatever was bothering him.

"We can skip this you know," Deeks said with a tease in his voice. "If you're scared, I mean."

Joe looked up at him quickly with a glare on his face, but a smile flickered briefly when he saw Deeks raise his eyebrows and smile.

"Wiseass," Joe said as he hefted his board up under his arm and headed for the beach.

"If you're gonna babble like this all day, I may need to put in some earplugs," Deeks said as he hurried after him.

Joe ignored the barb and didn't wait for Deeks to catch up until throwing his towel down and dropping his board in the sand. Deeks decided to let him be for now and they waxed their boards in silence. Deeks could feel the muscles in his body slowly relax as he got into rhythm. He hadn't pulled his wetsuit all the way up yet and he basked in the warmth of the early sun on his back. He never tired of prepping for a surf and he smiled at the familiar routine he had missed so much the past spring. When he was finished, he pulled his wetsuit up and walked alone toward the wave line and stood watching the breaks, lost in his own private world. The wind was up and his seasoned scan of the sweeping waves sent a surge of adrenaline through his body.

"Sorry, man," Joe said as he came up behind him. "I've been a shit this morning."

"No argument there, buddy," Deeks said softly. "What's up?"

"Diane and I had a shouting match last night," he said as he stared out at the turbulent sea.

"What about?" Deeks asked, his eyes still roaming over the wave sets.

"She asked me about the op I just came off of and I told her it was none of her business," Joe's voice sounded hollow.

"Now who's the dumb-ass?" Deeks said as he turned to look at his friend.

Joe laughed and shook his head and turned and walked back to his towel and threw himself down. Deeks dropped down next to him and waited for him to continue.

"I know she was just trying to be supportive," Joe said. "But, I didn't want her to know what happened, because I knew it would scare her."

"She just wants to know you're okay, man," Deeks said. "She's not used to this so you need to reassure her, especially after what happened to you on our last op. You don't need to be specific, just let her know you can handle it."

"I missed you out there," Joe said.

"Well, don't tell her that," Deeks laughed. "She'll get jealous."

"You are so full of shit, Deeks," Joe laughed and pushed him over onto his back.

"I'm not the one in the dog house with his girl," Deeks said with a crooked grin.

"Yeah. She threatened to leave," Joe said sadly.

"You've been living together for three months now, right?" Deeks asked. "You need to take her on an anniversary date."

"What anniversary is that, broken dishes?" Joe said quietly.

"She threw dishes at you?" Deeks said as he tried to keep from laughing. "I knew there was a reason I liked her."

"Yeah? Well, she missed," Joe laughed.

"Lucky you," Deeks said. "Try explaining that kind of injury to McLoughlan."

"I love her, Marty," Joe said. "I asked her to marry me."

"Seriously? Was that before or after she threw the dishes at you?" Deeks asked.

"Funny," Joe said. "After, dumb-ass."

"I knew you were serious about her, but I didn't think you'd plunge right in, buddy," Deeks said slowly with a soft smile spreading across his face. "Did she throw anything else at you or did she accept?"

"She said yes, Marty," Joe replied, smiling broadly and suddenly laughing out loud.

"Are you kidding me? You are one lucky bastard," Deeks said as he pulled his friend to his feet. "At least I know what to get you for a wedding present."

"Dishes," they said in unison.

Deeks slapped Joe enthusiastically on the back and pulled him in for a quick hug. The two men stood and stared at each other for a minute. Deeks' mind flashed back to the image of Joe lying badly wounded on the deck of Lee Chao's cargo ship and he swallowed hard at the dark memory. In that instant he had thought he had lost him and he remembered how devastated he'd felt as he struggled to reach him. Their bond was cemented in that frightening moment between soul searing fear and the fierce hope and belief that Joe was strong enough to survive.

He threw his arm around Joe's neck and walked him toward the surf. He felt an overwhelming happiness for a man he was as close to as any true brother could be. He laughed and then suddenly rushed Joe madly out into the churning white water and dunked him under an incoming wave. Joe gasped as the cold water hit him and he quickly managed to gain his feet before tackling Deeks into the turbulent white water. Anyone watching them wrestle and laugh together would have thought they were acting like a couple of kids, and they wouldn't have disagreed, but in that moment they didn't care what anyone else thought as they celebrated life.

"When's this happening, man?" Deeks asked as he stumbled out of the surf and shook the water out of his hair.

"Next month at my Dad's ranch," Joe said.

"Won't it be covered in snow in September?" Deeks asked.

"It's Wyoming, Deeks, not the Arctic," Joe said, shaking his head at the LA boy.

"Well, I'll have to check my social calendar," Deeks said in mock seriousness, getting a solid punch in the arm for his effort.

"I want you to be my Best Man, Marty," Joe said softly. "So you better be there or I'll have an FBI SWAT team track you down."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Joe," Deeks said quietly. "Besides, you probably don't have any other friends you could ask."

"I see you're still annoying," Joe said with a warm smile.

"So, you still want that second surfing lesson, Kook?" Deeks said as he picked up his board.

"Who are you calling a kook?" Joe asked quizzically.

"A kook is someone who doesn't know what they're doing on a surfboard," Deeks laughed.

"I'm not that bad," Joe said, reaching for his board. "And I looked much better my first time on a surfboard then you did on Sheila. You were shakin' in your boots, man."

"At least I didn't fall off my horse. If I remember right, you fell off your board about a bazillion times on your first lesson," Deeks said. "And, when you finally got up, you lasted less then four seconds."

"Riding Sheila is like riding a rocking horse," Joe shot back.

"Well, let's see what you got, cowboy," Deeks said as he ran toward the crashing waves and dove onto his board.

Joe stood watching him for a moment with a smile on his face, before pushing his board into the tumbling water. The lesson turned serious and the two men's competitive natures soon came into play as Deeks yelled snide, wiseass comments at Joe as he struggled to maintain his footing on the moving board.

"I thought you said you used to do bucking bronco riding, or whatever it's called?" Deeks yelled over the crashing surf. "This is just a little surf board."

"Yeah, well there's nothing to hold on to," Joe sputtered as he came up for air after his sixth try. "I thought you were supposed to be encouraging me."

"I would if there was anything to encourage," Deeks laughed. "Who knew a trained FBI agent could be so uncoordinated."

Joe splashed water in Deeks face before tackling him and shoving him underwater. They came up laughing together and then swam for shore, both knowing the lesson was over for the day. Their walk back to the car was silent until the boards were strapped to the roof.

"Let's do dinner tonight, buddy," Deeks said as he turned to stare at his good friend. "We'll drink champagne while Di and Kens talk about wedding dresses."

"Am I crazy to do this, man?" Joe asked quietly. "I mean, you know how dangerous our jobs are and I really can't tell Di much about it."

"Well there's no question you're crazy, but that has nothing to do with you asking Di to marry you," Deeks said with a wicked grin. "But, she accepted, so that makes her crazy too."

"I think McLoughlan might be willing to be my Best Man," Joe said as he got in the car, his face quite serious. "I think I'll call him right now."

"I have a gun in the trunk, dude," Deeks said as he grabbed for the phone.

"You can't be Best Man if you kill me," Joe said with a grin.

"True. And I already have a couple of ideas for the bachelor party," Deeks said happily. "Can we have it here in LA? I mean we have great clubs here. From what I remember about your hometown, the only place suitable for a party had a mechanical bull in the middle of it."

"My dad told me, Hetty has a thing for mechanical bulls," Joe said. "Are you making fun of my hometown?"

"No, just it's night life." Deeks answered.

"Okay, you win," Joe said with a grin. "Not everyone will be able to fly to Wyoming for the wedding, anyway."

"Can I tell everybody?" Deeks asked.

"What if she changes her mind, Marty?" Joe asked seriously.

"Then she would be crazy," Deeks replied. "Now, tell me what your Dad said about Hetty and that mechanical bull."

...

...

The man caught briefly on an airport security camera wore a full beard and a Panama hat, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Nell couldn't be sure it was Granger, but she decided to follow her instincts and catalogue it. The file she was compiling for Hetty was filled with these kinds of possibilities, some were indistinct images culled from security cameras around the world or photos and gifs from social networking sites. Most were blurry and unsubstantiated, not good enough for facial recognition to get a match. If they did turn out to be Granger and a timeline established, when they were analyzed and put together, it might give them some idea as to where Granger had been and where he would finally settle.

The latest image had been picked up from Basel, Switzerland. She had tagged it, because the man looked similar to someone she had spotted in a photo on a photographer's blog from Frankfurt, Germany. The photographer shot society events, and the man with the beard could be seen in the background in a few of the images talking to a couple of men known to have been former agents with the East German Ministry of State Security otherwise known as Stasi. When she had shown one of them to Hetty, she had seen her blanch before ordering it sent to her personal home computer. Nell didn't know much about Hetty's history with Granger, but she knew they had been partners for a little while on a couple of assignments in Eastern Europe in the eighties. From Hetty's reaction to that photo, Nell was fairly certain that she knew the men in that picture and that they scared her. That Hetty was scared of anyone at all frightened the hell out of Nell.

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Vengeance: Chapter 2**

...

"You're going to love this place," Deeks shouted over the incredibly loud music being pumped out over the street. Deeks wrapped his arm around Kensi and led Joe and Diane to the head of the long line in front of the Ecco Ultra Lounge in Hollywood. After celebrating the couple's engagement at a small Italian restaurant, Deeks had pleaded with Joe to let him show him the club he had in mind for his bachelor party. The girls were up for it, but Joe looked decidedly skeptical about the whole idea after Deeks described the place. Now, as they waited for the doorman to acknowledge them, Joe stood shaking his head at the whole raucous scene.

"Can you really picture McLoughlan in this place, Marty?" Joe asked.

"It'll be good for all those guys," Deeks answered. "Your whole department is a little uptight, except for maybe Tina and Marv."

"Tina is not coming to my bachelor party," Joe said firmly.

"No, but she could teach you guys to loosen up a little," Deeks said as the doorman asked his name. Kensi was surprised when he gave his real name and looked over at him curiously as the doorman waved them inside.

"So, this was not a place you worked undercover?" she asked.

"No. I helped out the owner when his daughter got into some trouble with some bad news drug dealers," Deeks told her.

Deeks was suddenly wrapped in a bear hug by a slick looking man in a very expensive suit. Deeks introduced Kensi and his friends to the owner, Paul Carrera, who quickly signaled a waitress for a bottle of champagne.

"Marty tells me you're getting married and need a place for your bachelor party," Carrera said over the pulsating sounds of the music. "Well, look no further, my friend. I will guarantee you the best party ever, and there will be no charge."

All four of them were surprised into silence at the generosity of the offer.

"Seriously Paul, you don't have to do that," Deeks said quietly.

Paul Carrera poured four glasses of Dom Perignon and after pouring one for himself, he toasted Joe and Diane, before setting down his glass and staring steadily at Deeks, who was not looking pleased.

"Marty, my daughter just had a baby," Carrera said. "My first grandson. I owe you, so let me do something special for you and your friends, okay?"

"Okay, Paul. Okay," Deeks said with an embarrassed smile and everyone loosened up.

"You going to show me your hot dance moves, Mr. Atwood?" Diane said as she leaned her hips into him and started pushing him toward the overflowing dance floor.

"He doesn't have any hot moves," Deeks said laughing.

"And how would you know that?" Kensi asked. "Do you two have something you want to share us?"

"Come on Kens, he's an FBI agent," Deeks said with a brilliant smile. "They are just naturally uncoordinated. Besides, I've seen him on a surfboard and it was not a pretty sight."

"You were an FBI agent, Deeks," Joe said, trying to defend his prowess on the dance floor in front of his new fiancé.

"Yeah, but I got out before any of that rubbed off on me," Deeks said with a laugh.

Diane shook her head and pulled Joe out onto the dance floor and he shot Deeks a helpless look before being engulfed by the crowd.

"Marty, can I talk to you privately for a couple of minutes?" Paul Carrera asked. Deeks nodded and they were led to a VIP table where Kensi poured herself another glass of champagne and turned to watch Diane and Joe moving sensuously close together, oblivious to the dancers around them.

Deeks followed Paul Carrera back to his office, remembering the first time he had met privately with him. Paul had almost had him bodily thrown out, until he convinced him that the information he had about his daughter's involvement with a couple of drug dealers was true. What he had told the man had shaken him, but he'd finally agreed to talk to his daughter about testifying against the dealers and Deeks was able to get her a suspended sentence and she went into rehab. That had been four years ago and they had been friends ever since.

"Is everything okay, Paul?" Deeks asked as the man closed the door to his office. "You in trouble?"

"No, Marty," Carrera said. "But, you might be."

"What does that mean?" Deeks asked warily.

"A guy has been coming in at different times over the last couple of weeks, asking about you," Paul said. "He asks when you might be coming in and once asked one of the girls to give him your phone number, saying you were old friends who had lost touch. She refused and came and got me, but by the time I came out, he was gone."

"What did this guy look like?" Deeks asked.

"She said he was creepy, with a buzz cut, a light beard and a habit of constantly biting his fingernails," Paul said. "He had a slight accent, but she couldn't place it. One of the other girls thought it might have been Russian."

"And he asked for me by name?" Deeks asked and Paul Carrera nodded.

"The last time he came in he was drunk, and I told Sanchez to throw him out," Paul said. "But, before he did, I asked him how he knew you and he said that you had a mutual friend, then he laughed. He told me not to worry, that he'd find you eventually. I thought you should know, Marty."

"Thanks for the heads up, Paul," Deeks said. "Do you still have the security tapes?"

"I'll have Jessica bring them to your table," Paul said.

"No, that's okay," Deeks said quickly. "I'll stop by your office before I leave."

Deeks shook his hand and headed back toward the main room, his mind searching through all of the possibilities. He didn't want to spoil the evening, so he kept what Paul had told him to himself. He was distracted though, and Kensi picked up on it. She gave him several quizzical looks before reaching for his hand and seductively gazing at him as she tilted her head toward the dance floor. He should have known she'd be attentive to his moods, but he let her lead him out into the mob of gyrating people anyway, knowing it was her way of getting him alone, as improbable as that seemed. She pulled him slowly into a tight embrace, moving against him at half tempo to the music. Her hand played seductively with the hair at the nape of his neck and she lightly nuzzled his neck, her lips brushing his ear and her warm breath sending chills down his back as she whispered his name.

"Hey, Marty," she said, drawing out his name. "Going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to seduce you to get the information?"

"That sounds fun," he said as his hand slowly slid down to her ass. "You planning on doing it right here on the dance floor, or are we saving it for a more private setting?"

She took his face in both her hands and gently and passionately kissed him, all the while moving her body against his. Both his hands were on her ass now, and when she stopped kissing him briefly he smiled at the audacity of her movements.

"You're beautiful when you're trying to seduce someone." He whispered into her ear, before gently nipping her neck and playfully brushing his lips along her bare shoulder.

"So, it's working," She said, her arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer.

"Oh, yeah, it's definitely working," he said breathlessly. "I'll tell you anything you want to know, Agent Blye."

"What did the club owner talk to you about?" she asked, staring intently into his pale blue eyes.

"How do you know it wasn't about the bachelor party?" he asked.

"Because you were too quiet when you came back," She answered. "And, because if something is bothering you, I want to know about it. I don't want you to keep anything from me. We're partners."

"And what kind of partners would that be?" he asked, kissing her several times as he spoke the sentence.

"Are you trying to distract me?" she laughed and he felt a tremor move through her body.

"Now, why would I do that, Ms. Blye," Deeks said, running a hand up her back and into her hair. He kissed her deeply then and he felt her respond, but then she pulled back and searched his eyes and he knew she wouldn't be denied an answer.

"I don't need to be protected if that's what you're doing," she said and he saw her eyes flash dangerously.

"I just didn't want anything to spoil the evening, Kens," he told her as the music stopped. He led her over to the side of the crush of people and then back to a private room off Paul's office. When they were inside, he turned to see worry creasing her face and he smiled and pulled her to him, kissing her softly on the lips and then on the cheek.

"Marty, just tell me," she said as she stepped back from his embrace.

"It's not that serious, Kens," he said. "Someone's been asking about me, that's all."

Her body went rigid and he could see her eyes grow intense as her mind worked.

"Do you know who it was?" she asked, her hands now tightly grasping his arms.

"No. He told one of the waitresses we have a mutual friend," he answered. "It could be someone I knew from LAPD. It could be anybody Kens. I didn't want you guys to worry, especially tonight, so I kept it to myself."

"But you're going to mention it to Hetty and the team, right?" She asked, making it more of a demand than a question. "It could be Granger, Deeks."

"I know, and I promise to tell Hetty, Kens," he said with a soft smile. "Now can we get back to our friends? They might think we ran out on them."

"You really think they even know we're here?" Kensi laughed. "Did you see them on the dance floor? There could have been a major earthquake and they wouldn't have noticed."

"Well then, do you want to continue that little seduction act you had going?" Deeks said with a suggestive smile. "I may be holding something back."

She punched him in the chest and he coughed out a laugh.

"Don't joke about this, Deeks," she said seriously.

"Okay, okay," He said with a frown. "You're mean."

He turned back toward the door and she was immediately sorry as she realized that the intimate mood between them was now broken and she reached out and put her hands on his shoulders and he stopped, his head down. Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his chest and her fingers slowly began to unbutton his shirt and she heard him catch his breath. One hand slipped slowly inside his light blue shirt and began to massage his chest as her mouth closed over his bare shoulder as she pulled the shirt back with her other hand. She felt him shiver as she continued to softly kiss his shoulder and the back of his neck. Then he turned and his mouth hungrily closed over hers as his hand slipped up and inside her silk shirt. He pulled her urgently to him as his hand sought her breast and she could hear his breathing quicken. His mouth left hers, but lingered close, as he stared into her eyes, their noses touching as the unfulfilled need hovered between them.

"You're very good at this seduction thing," he whispered.

"You're easy," she said, her laugh soft and light, but suddenly cut off by another deep kiss. She felt herself losing control and she knew that shouldn't happen here so she pulled away from him.

"Take me home, Agent Deeks," She said in a low throaty voice.

"Anything you say, Agent Blye," He answered, but not wanting to let her go. He kissed her neck once more, before sucking in his breath to calm himself. He took her hand and led her from the room.

They straightened their clothes before returning to the main room, waving to Joe and Diane as they made their way off the dance floor.

"How about a nightcap?" Joe asked. "My turn to buy a round, man. This place is really awesome."

"What changed your mind?" Deeks asked with a surprised smile.

"Good memories," Joe said as he pulled Diane close.

"Me too," Deeks laughed, wrapping his arm around Kensi as they headed for the bar.

They had just finished their round of drinks, when Paul Carrera appeared behind Deeks. He smiled, but there was a hint of unease about him that alerted Deeks.

"Gentlemen? Could we talk privately about your upcoming bachelor party?" Paul asked. "The ladies don't need to hear the details."

"We won't be long," Deeks said.

"Don't worry about us," Diane said. "Kensi and I have our eyes on a couple of cuties to keep us company while you're off discussing your little party."

"I think I'm in trouble, Marty," Joe said as they followed Paul. "And I'm not even married yet."

When Deeks didn't laugh or make a wiseass comment, Joe realized that the conversation they were about to have wasn't going to be about the party. They walked around the end of the bar and stopped. They were out of sight to those standing at the bar, but they had a perfect view of everyone.

"He's at the far end, Marty," Paul said.

"What's this about, Deeks," Joe said.

"The tough guy at the end of the bar has been asking about me," Deeks said.

"Do you recognize him?" Joe asked.

"No, but I'm real interested in having a conversation with him," Deeks answered. "You interested in being my backup?"

"I'm there, partner," Joe said. "You armed?"

Deeks reached down and pulled a small revolver out of an ankle holster and smiled at Joe, who was doing the same. Deeks shoved the gun into the back of his pants and then turned to Paul.

"Think you can get him out back?" Deeks asked.

"Of course. I'll have one of the girls tell him where you are," Paul said. "Do you want Sanchez to meet you there?"

"No. We'll handle it," Deeks motioned for Joe to follow him out the back.

Deeks was standing alone by the service entrance when the man came out and moved quickly toward him.

"Heard you been asking about me," Deeks' voice was low and the man hesitated.

"Remember Yakiv Proczko?" the man said rapidly as he started toward him.

"Yeah, I remember him," Deeks said as he pulled his gun and held it at his side. "I put his ass in jail."

""He remembers you too," the man said, stopping when he saw the gun. "He wants you to know he will be coming for you."

"Nice of him to let me know," Deeks said. "But, it's gonna be a little tough, considering he's in San Quentin."

"No, no, my friend," the man said with a laugh. "He's free now. He made a deal to rat out some dealers and they let him go free."

Deeks went cold at the news.

"You betrayed him," the man said harshly. "And Yakiv does not forget traitors."

"I was an undercover cop, asshole," Deeks said. "And now I'm a Fed, so tell Yakiv to back off or he'll have to answer to Federal charges this time."

"He liked you, you know," the man said. "He was very angry when he found out you were a cop. He thought of you as family. He will come for you, my friend, when you least expect it."

The man turned and started to walk away and Deeks relaxed. When the man suddenly whirled around and fired at him, he wasn't prepared, and he felt a sting as a bullet cut through the sleeve of his shirt. He saw Joe step out of the shadows and fire almost simultaneously at the man, hitting him all four times, as Deeks brought his own gun up and fired.

"Deeks?" Joe yelled as he ran toward him.

"I'm okay, Joe," Deeks said as he moved to kick the gun away from the dead man's hand.

"I'm sorry, man," Joe said, "I waited too long."

"Me too," Deeks said as he examined his arm. "Good thing the guy was a lousy shot."

Paul and Kensi burst out of the back door and Deeks saw the fear on her face as she ran to him.

"Are you okay?" Kensi asked breathlessly when she saw the blood on his sleeve.

"It's just a scratch, Kens," he said.

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on?" she angrily demanded.

"Because I needed you to stay with Diane in case the guy had backup," he said. "I knew you would protect her. Where is she?"

"I left her in the ladies room," Kensi said, her anger slowly cooling.

"I'll have a couple of the girls take her to my office," Paul said to Joe as he turned to go back inside to find her.

The alley began to swarm with police cars and an ambulance, the flashing lights illuminating Kensi and Deeks' faces as they stared at each other. He pulled her into a hug and they held each other until a paramedic noticed his bloody sleeve.

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Vengeance: Chapter 3**

...

"He's okay, Hetty," Callen said into his cell as he stood watching Deeks being treated in the ER. Deeks looked up at him for a moment and the look of embarrassment on his face surprised him.

"She wants details, Deeks," Callen said. "And so do I."

"Can it wait till morning? I'm kind of tired," Deeks said as the intern finished bandaging his arm. "I spent over an hour just giving a statement to the detectives on scene. Then I waited for Joe to finish his and I know they're gonna want us both back at LAPD in the morning."

"It's morning now, Deeks," Sam said as he walked in. "And I was sleeping real good when Callen woke me up."

"Sorry, Sam. Blame Kensi. She's the one who called Hetty," Deeks said. "I told her I'd fill you all in when I got to work Monday."

"Monday?" Callen said, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You thought this should wait until Monday?"

"Some Ukrainian drug dealer threatens you and one of his guys tries to kill you, and you weren't going to tell us till Monday?" Sam's voice got louder as he spoke.

"He missed, Sam," Deeks said lightly with a crooked smile, trying to calm the big man down.

Sam reached out and grabbed his wounded arm and Deeks hissed in pain and stumbled back against the gurney, his face suddenly pale and his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to weather a wave of dizziness.

"Yeah, Deeks, he missed," Sam said softly. "Sorry, man, but sometimes you piss me off."

"Just sometimes?" Deeks whispered.

"Deeks? What's wrong?" Kensi pushed between the two senior agents and put her hand on Deeks' shoulder as she tried to see what had caused him to cry out.

"Just Sam trying to teach me a lesson," Deeks said.

"What did you do?" Kensi turned angrily to confront Sam.

"Let it go, Kens," Deeks said. "I just need to sit down for a minute and then I'll answer all your questions. Okay?"

"Hetty wants you in a safe house tonight," Callen said. "How about we take you there and you can fill us in on the way?"

Deeks nodded and brushed quickly past Sam as he headed for the exit with Kensi close behind.

"You were a little rough on him, don't you think?" Callen asked Sam as they stood watching the door close behind them.

"He's trying to make light of this, G," Sam said, his anger still fresh. "That guy could have killed him and might have if Joe hadn't been there."

"I think he just wants things back to normal, Sam," Callen said. "After everything that happened with Lee Chao and the hearings, I think he's just tired of being the center of attention."

"Well, that gunshot wound should have gotten his attention, G," Sam said as he walked out into the dark of early morning. "It sure as hell got mine."

The first half of the trip to the safe house was made in silence. They had taken Kensi's Cadillac, but Sam had insisted on driving, which didn't sit well with her at all, so the tension between the team was sharp and Callen seemed to be the only one not totally pissed off.

"So who sent that guy, Deeks?" he finally asked.

"Yakiv Proczko," Deeks answered quietly. "You already know he was Ukrainian and a fairly big drug dealer. About six years ago, I was undercover inside his operation and it took me three months before I could get anything on him. I ended up having to testify against him and that's when he discovered I was a cop."

"Why does he want to kill you?" Sam asked, looking in the rear view mirror. Deeks wouldn't look at him, and turned to stare out the window as he continued the story.

"About a month into my assignment, I was sent on a buy with Yakiv's son, Olek," Deeks said. "It went sideways and Olek was wounded. I managed to drag him out of the line of fire and get him home. Yakiv hadn't noticed me much before that, but afterwards things were different between us. He invited me into his home and I met his whole family. Dinners were pretty regular and I got to sit in on a lot of his planning sessions, which was how we were able to get enough evidence to bring him down."

Deeks stopped talking for a little while and Callen and Sam exchanged looks, knowing there was more that he was having a hard time telling.

"Olek and I were about the same age," Deeks continued. "We started hanging out together, going to clubs and parties and stuff. He was a funny guy, always telling jokes on himself and I liked him."

Deeks paused and took a deep breath before he finished the story.

"When LAPD made its raid, Olek was wounded in the shootout," Deeks said softly. "I tried to reach him, but some of the cops didn't know I was on the job and one of them shot me. When I woke up in the hospital, Bates told me Olek had died. After I testified at trial, Yakiv blamed me for his death."

"How'd he get out of prison?" Callen asked.

"One of the detectives told me he cut a deal with the new DA," Deeks said disgustedly. "Ratted on some new dealer and walked out free as a bird."

Sam pulled into the driveway of a small house in Inglewood and Deeks was the first one out of the car. He walked across the lawn and stood staring out at the street until Kensi went to get him. When they got inside, he didn't say a word to anyone, he just made his way to one of the bedrooms, went inside and shut the door.

"I'll stay here with him," Callen told Kensi. "You go home, Kens."

She could tell by the stern look on his face that he wanted no argument, so she nodded and walked back out to the car.

"Tell him I'm sorry, G," Sam said. "I didn't mean to hurt him."

"Yes you did," Callen said tightly. "There had to be another way to make your point, Sam."

Sam looked briefly at the floor before shaking his head and walking out of the house.

...

...

Lieutenant Bates opened the door to the interview room and told the detectives to get out with a jerk of his head. They looked confused, but they did as told, knowing that arguing with Bates was a no win situation.

"You okay?" Bates asked Deeks as he sat down and put a laptop on the table between them.

"Yeah," Deeks said with a yawn. "But, I could use some more sleep."

"His name was Pavlo Skalik," Bates said quickly. "And he never worked for Proczko as far as we can tell."

"You sure? Cause last night it sure sounded like he knew him," Deeks said.

"He went to visit him in prison a few times over the last month, always with Proczko's lawyer," Bates said. "We think Proczko might have hired him for a hit on you, but there's no proof."

"Then why did he tell me Proczko was coming for me?" Deeks asked.

"Maybe to distract you, which apparently he did," Bates said as he pointed at Deeks' arm.

"Celebrating a little too much didn't help either," Deeks said with an embarrassed smile.

"Deeks, Proczko's been out for a couple of weeks and we think he's been busy," Bates opened a file on his laptop and turned it so Deeks could see the screen. As he got up and walked around behind him, Deeks noticed he was tense and a little unnerved about something. When he looked at the screen he knew why.

"Two of these photos were emailed to me, specifically, over the last four days," Bates said quietly. "This morning I received this one."

Each image showed a badly beaten man with three bullet holes in his chest. Deeks didn't know the first two, but the last one was a fellow undercover cop who had worked with him on the Proczko operation.

"Sonofabitch," Deeks said. "How did that bastard get to Dimitri? Proczko never found out he was a cop, that I know of."

"There is nothing to link these emails to Proczko, but all of these men knew him," Bates said as he sat down. "Deeks, you need to watch your back. I've already alerted your boss this morning and she is not happy."

"Yeah, I'm getting that message from a couple of people," Deeks said as he ran his hands through his hair and then down his face.

"I'll put a detail on your apartment," Bates said.

"Hetty's got me in a safe house," Deeks told him as he got up to leave. "So, I won't need the detail, but thanks."

"I told Atwood it was a good shoot," Bates said as he walked him out. "We'll get this guy, Deeks."

He nodded to his former Lieutenant and walked slowly down the hall, saddened by the death of a man he had known and worked with on and off for over four years. He tried to recall all he could about Proczko, but he didn't remember him as a particularly vicious man. Maybe prison had changed him, made him bitter and looking for revenge, but it still didn't explain how he found out Dimitri was a cop and that bothered him. By the time he got to OSP he was in a foul mood. He had hardly put his stuff down, before Sam walked up to him.

"How's the arm?" Sam asked quietly.

"What the fuck do you care?" Deeks snapped at him.

"Mr. Deeks, my office," Hetty called out.

"Shit," he said as he headed for her office, leaving Sam standing rooted in place by his desk.

"Sounds like he's as pissed at you as you are at him," Callen smiled brightly at his partner.

Kensi came in from her workout in the gym and noticed the sour look on Sam's face, but Callen flashed her a warning look to keep her from asking what was wrong.

"Everyone upstairs, please," Hetty said as she silently entered the bullpen. "It seems Mr. Deeks' shooting last night just got a little more complicated."

When the team entered Ops, the three photos Deeks had seen that morning were on the big screen. Deeks was already there, standing against the far wall, not looking at the screen.

"Lieutenant Bates sent these over this morning," Hetty said. "Two of these men were associates of Yavik Proczko, the man Bates thinks has put a hit out on Mr. Deeks. The man on the left was an undercover officer who worked with Mr. Deeks during the operation to bring down Proczko's drug business."

"His name was Dimitri Kondos," Deeks said, his voice shaky and angry at the same time. "He was a friend and one of the better undercover cops I worked with."

"Did he testify against Proczko too?" Callen asked, turning to look quizzically at Deeks.

"No, he didn't," Deeks said shaking his head. "I can't figure out how Proczko made him, especially since he's been in prison all this time."

"Maybe he bought the information from a dirty cop?" Sam said.

"Regardless of how his identity was discovered, we are now tasked with protecting Mr. Deeks from a similar fate," Hetty said firmly.

Callen saw Deeks shake his head and cross his arms, the anger evident in his tight lips and dark eyes. He knew he didn't want any of this, having listened to him rant about it at breakfast.

"Looks like the safe house will be home for awhile, Deeks," Callen said. "At least until we can track him down."

"Any places he's likely to go, Deeks?" Kensi asked as she moved to stand next to him.

"Does he still have family here?" Sam asked.

"LAPD already checked with his family," Deeks said. "They moved to San Francisco so they could visit him at San Quentin, but they wouldn't tell the detectives anything. His three houses were taken by the city after he was convicted and the warehouse he used for his base of operations was destroyed in a fire a couple of years ago."

"Can we tell where the photos of these bodies were taken, Eric?" Hetty asked.

"No. They're too tightly cropped, but I'm pretty sure they are lying on dirt," Eric said.

"He buried them," Deeks said. "He always buried the people he had killed, and very few bodies were ever recovered. Dimitri told us about a few locations, but even those were hard to find. They were out in the desert and practically impossible to tell they were graves at all. And there was never any evidence to tie him to any of the murders."

"How about known associates?" Callen asked.

"The ones who aren't dead are serving time," Deeks said.

"Maybe they got a special deal for early release, too," Sam said.

"Lieutenant Bates has agreed to send us all the information they have on Proczko," Hetty told them. "Mr. Callen, you and Sam and Kensi find out what you can on anyone still around who knew him and talk to his lawyer, as well. We might be able to scare him into cooperating with us. I doubt he wants to be charged with aiding an attempt on the life of a Federal agent."

"What about me, Hetty?" Deeks asked.

"I hear you're planning a bachelor party, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said with a smile. "I'd say that between overdue paperwork and Mr. Atwood's upcoming party, you will be quite busy."

"Hetty, I know this guy," Deeks pleaded, his frustration barely hidden. "I can help find him."

"Mr. Deeks, I can't let you do that," Hetty said. "There's a contract out on you and that puts not only you in danger, but the rest of the team as well. We'll find him Mr. Deeks. And remember, you don't go anywhere alone. Do I make myself clear?"

Deeks nodded, then turned and left the Ops Center quickly. He knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier to take. The return to normal operations hadn't lasted long and now he was right back at the center of attention, losing that sense of peace he had finally found after returning from Wyoming.

"Deeks?" Sam stood towering over him as he slammed a stack of file folders down on his desk.

"What? Here to teach me another lesson, Sam?" He asked sharply. "Well, I'm not in the mood."

"Deeks, I'm sorry I hurt you last night," Sam said quietly. "I just wanted you to take this seriously."

"Got it," he answered, refusing to look up at him.

Sam waited for him to say something else, but when he just kept shuffling files, Sam walked off.

"He doesn't usually apologize you know," Callen said as he entered the bullpen. "Your shooting shook him up, Deeks. He was worried about you."

"Yeah? Well, he had a shitty way of showing it," Deeks said as he flipped open a file and began typing on his laptop.

"Don't shut us out, Deeks," Callen said sharply. "We're gonna need your help on this. You may not be in the field, but you know this guy and we'll need to run things by you as we work this case. So, get over it, Deeks and make things right with Sam. He wants to protect you. We all do. So let us do that, okay? You had our backs after Lee Chao nearly killed us and now it's our turn to have yours."

Deeks stopped typing and sat quietly as Callen's words sunk in. He was suddenly ashamed of the way he had dealt with Sam. He was still pissed at him, but he knew he could have joked about their confrontation and eased them both through it, but he hadn't done that and he wasn't sure why. He had always used humor to take the tension out of situations and he was baffled that using it this time hadn't even occurred to him. He had just felt anger when Sam had grabbed his arm and it was an anger he didn't want to let go of when he saw him this morning. He thought he had gotten past that long simmering anger after the hearings in Washington, but apparently some of it still lingered and that truly worried him. He had to get control over it, not let it dominate him and he knew he had to start with what happened with Sam. He sought desperately for some humor in the situation, but he felt absolutely empty and that scared him. He could easily find it when he was with Joe or with Kensi, but to not be able to use humor with Sam or Callen surprised him and he struggled to try and understand why.

"Deeks? We good?" Callen asked, a look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, sorry," Deeks said.

He stood then, his face a mask of conflicting emotions as he headed for the gym. He knew Sam would be there and he searched his mind for what to say to him. He thought back to the Senate hearings and recalled how Sam had stood behind him with his hands on his shoulders during the darkest moments and his eyes misted briefly at the memory. Sam had given him the strength to get through all the shit that Granger had thrown at him. He had never wavered in his support and that kind of loyalty deserved his respect. Sam Hannah deserved his respect. He was a friend and a brother and Deeks couldn't let anything change that, especially his own anger.

Sam was working the heavy bag and Deeks walked up and stood behind it, steadying the bag as Sam landed blow after blow. Neither man spoke until Sam was finished, stepping back and looking solemnly at Deeks.

"You want to hit me?" Sam asked.

"What? No," Deeks said and then laughed softly. "Hell, I'd probably break my hand and not be able to finish my paperwork and then Hetty would kill me."

"You're a wuss, Deeks," Sam said shaking his head with a small flickering of a smile.

"Am not," Deeks said seriously.

"Are too," Sam said firmly.

"Am not," Deeks said with a grin.

"How's the arm?" Sam asked.

"It hurts," Deeks said, looking down and picking at the bandage.

"You, most definitely, are a wuss," Sam laughed.

"Am not!"

...


	4. Chapter 4

**Vengeance: Chapter 4**

...

The day had been unsettling. The new threat to Deeks had caught all of them unawares and Hetty could tell by the barely resolved confrontations between members of the team, that it had upset the balance that had just recently been restored. They had all worked together sparingly over the last few months, Kensi being the last to be certified to resume fieldwork, but Hetty knew none of them were fully back to their prior readiness, especially psychologically. She'd had to threaten Callen with a suspension in order get him to talk with a counselor and Deeks had strongly resisted as well. His childhood experience and the devastating revelation of that time in his life at the Senate hearings had made his reluctance understandable, but she knew he needed to talk to someone, so she'd made it mandatory before she would allow him back in the field. Now, she feared the stress brought on by this latest threat might upset their recovery as a team. She also didn't want it to distract them from whom she felt was the greater danger and that was Owen Granger.

She had insisted that Nell use as much of her time tracking that bastard as possible. She'd made everyone aware that if they needed research they were to talk to Mr. Beale, not Nell. Tonight, she had received new intel from her and had gone over it after dinner. There was nothing concrete, but one photo reminded her that she needed to peruse some very old files she kept in a secure safe in her home office. She had invited Nell to go through them with her and she took a deep breath when the doorbell rang. The young analyst would bring fresh eyes and a brilliant mind to the haunting files she hadn't looked at in over twenty years.

"Hetty," Nell said in a crisp voice as she entered. "I've brought one more bit of information I picked up before leaving OSPs."

"I've made us some very strong tea," Hetty said as she led the way to her office. "And I might fortify it when I open up that old file on the Stasi agents. Those vicious bastards still scare me, even though half of them are dead."

"Callen and Sam flew up to San Francisco tonight to talk to Proczko's family," Nell told her as she made herself comfortable at Hetty's desk. "I thought you might already know, but just in case you didn't."

"Thank you, Nell," Hetty said as she poured their tea. "Did Sam and Mr. Deeks resolve their little squabble?"

"I think so, but I heard Callen and Sam arguing about it as they left," she answered. "Kensi is going to spend the night at the safe house with Deeks."

The two women smiled knowingly at each other and silently drank their tea. Hetty reached for a well-worn file folder stamped with a very high security clearance, feeling a slight chill as she opened it. She pulled out a couple of files with attached black and white surveillance photos taken before the fall of the Berlin Wall and spread them out on her desk. Nell reached for one in particular and then opened her laptop and quickly scanned the file she had on Granger.

"I see your cover name for Granger's file is appropriate," Hetty said with a tight smile. "Zoril. A weasel like animal resembling a skunk, I believe is the correct definition. Well done, Miss Jones."

"Hetty, I've seen this man in some of the security footage I've gathered," Nell said quickly. "He has grey hair now and has put on weight, but it's him."

"Wilhelm Jürgen," Hetty shivered as she said his name and Nell noticed her hand tremble as she set down her tea.

"I spotted him with the man in the Panama hat leaving a train station in Basel," Nell said. "Then I picked him up two weeks ago on a social networking site at an internet cafe in Derry, Northern Ireland."

"You think the man in the Panama hat is Granger," Hetty stated.

"Yes, but I haven't been able to get a clear enough image to run it through facial rec to confirm," Nell said, her frustration evident. "The last time I spotted him was a week ago in Athens, and then nothing."

"What about Jürgen?" Hetty asked.

"I only saw them together in Frankfurt and Basel." Nell said. "After Derry, I lost him."

"Granger tried to turn Jürgen," Hetty said as she rose and went to the sideboard. She poured herself a generous amount of scotch and stood staring out into space as she talked. "We were in East Berlin in 1987, working a case for the CIA. I told Granger I didn't think it was possible, but he was even more full of himself then than he is now. He thought it would be a significant feather in his cap if he could turn a Stasi agent. We barely got out of the city with our lives."

Nell waited for her to elaborate on that statement, but she didn't.

"Jürgen was a monster," she said softly. "He had no compunction at all about torture or killing. None at all. I think he enjoyed it, especially the torture."

"If Granger is the man in the Panama hat, what are they doing together?" Nell asked.

"Honestly, I'd have thought they would have killed each other on sight," Hetty said. "I know if I had the chance, it's what I would do and it would have solved our problem."

"I'm not liking this at all, Hetty," Nell said.

"Neither am I," Hetty said as she poured another scotch. "Keep an eye out for them, Nell and let me know if you find them together again. Mr. Deeks' life might depend on it."

...

...

"Ouch!" Deeks yelped as she attempted to unwrap the bandage on his arm.

"Sam's right. You are a wuss," Kensi said. "I have to change your dressing, Deeks. Now stop fidgeting."

"Then quit yanking at it," Deeks said, pushing her hand away. "I'm gonna start calling you the Nazi nurse."

"Then why did you ask me to help?" Kensi said and took a step back as he stood in front of the bathroom sink unwrapping the remaining gauze. He was naked to the waist and she couldn't help herself, reaching out to place her hands on his bare shoulders. His back muscles were tense as he concentrated on taking off the bandage, but as soon as she touched him, he smiled and leaned back into her.

"You're just trying to make up for being a terrible nurse," He said, looking at her in the mirror.

"I am not a terrible nurse," she said indignantly.

"Well, you're not Florence Nightingale, that's for sure," Deeks said as he checked the wound.

"I'll have you know, I have an incredible bedside manner," Kensi said as she wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him closer, kissing him softly at the base of his neck.

"Now, that I will agree on," he laughed, turning to face her and kissing the tip of her nose.

"Want me to rewrap that for you?" Kensi said, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"You'd probably wrap it so tight you'd cut off the circulation," Deeks said with a breathy laugh.

"Keep maligning my skills, and I'll make you sleep on the couch," she said pushing him away.

"Hey, this is my safe house. You're only a guest," Deeks said, smiling broadly as she headed into the bedroom.

After checking the wound once more, he followed her, only to be hit squarely in the face by a pillow. He ripped it out of her hands and hit her back as she ran around the bed to get the other pillow. They were both laughing as they bashed each other with pillows, until Kensi knocked him sideways and his wounded arm hit the doorframe. He went pale, grabbing his arm as he leaned back against the wall, panting as he tried to ease the pain shooting up and down his arm.

"God, Marty, I'm so sorry," Kensi said. She helped him to the bed and went for his pain medication as he sat on the edge, breathing heavily.

She helped him take a couple of pills and then rubbed his back, trying to take his mind off the lingering pain. Finally, she went for the bandages and silently dressed his wound. When she was finished, he looked up into her eyes and smiled, resting his hands on her hips, before pulling her into his arms and laying his head between her breasts. She gently ran her fingers through his hair and then across his shoulders and down his back, delighting in the coolness of his skin against the palms of her hands.

"You know what happens when you stroke my skin like that," he said as he suddenly stood up and looked down at her.

"You might have to show me exactly what you mean," She whispered, kissing the hollow of his throat.

She was wearing her black and white plaid shirt and he slowly began to unbutton it as he stared into her dark eyes. A sweet look of joy began to spread across his face as he opened her shirt and he bent to place a kiss at the base of her ear, his lips and then his tongue sending electric shivers down through her body. He slipped the shirt off and then the straps of her bra, undoing it effortlessly, and then standing back to let his eyes roam over her body. She saw his eyes darken and his smile fade as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her to him, his warm mouth closing over her left nipple. She groaned deeply and pushed into him, grabbing handfuls of his hair as his tongue excited her beyond reason, until she pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. She heard him laugh against her breasts, and she smiled.

"I told you I have a great bedside manner," She said as she rose up over him with her hands on her hips.

He laughed out loud as his hands slid down to her thighs, his thumbs slowly massaging them before his fingers sought the buttons on her jeans.

"We have on way too many clothes, Nurse Blye," Deeks said, his eyes sparkling with humor and excitement as she stood and pushed her jeans down and stepped out of them. She unzipped his and pulled them off and then watched as he centered himself on the bed before crooking his finger to beckon her to him.

"Come and show me some of that bedside manner, Nurse Blye," he said, his eyes locking with hers as she sensuously moved toward him, her smile wicked and seductive.

She moved steadily up his body, stopping briefly to place soft kisses on his stomach and then his chest, before taking his face in her hands and kissing his mouth languidly as her hands tangled themselves in his unruly hair. They began to move slowly together in a rhythm that elicited deep moans from them both. His long, sensitive fingers stroked up and down her back and ass, increasing her excitement and their movements. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her onto her back, brushing back her dark, wavy hair that had now grown out to reach her shoulders. He paused only slightly before enveloping her mouth in his as he entered her. Their passion exploded almost immediately and he laughed as she called out his name. They clung to each other as their breathing eased, his hands still moving over her body as she lay exhausted across the bed.

"Now you know what it is about nurses," he whispered as he lightly kissed her lips.

"Does this mean you're expecting a sponge bath?" She asked as she stroked his bearded cheek before pulling him down for a gentle kiss.

"Well, you did get me all hot and sweaty, Nurse Blye," he said with a crooked smile.

...

...

Callen couldn't help but notice the pleased smile on his partner's face as they drove out of the city. The morning had broken clear and the air was crisp, the early morning sun highlighting the Bay Bridge as they headed for San Quentin State Prison. They had spent the night in San Francisco because Sam wanted to go to a particular restaurant with an impressive wine list. Callen had to admit the food was incredible and he did like the Malbec. Mostly, he had enjoyed watching Sam argue with the sommelier about which country produced the best Malbec. Sam had finally convinced the man, but Callen was pretty sure the poor guy just couldn't take the former SEAL's intensity and agreed with him just so he could get away.

"I told you that place was special," Sam said with a smile.

"I won't argue with you on that," Callen said distractedly as he checked the file in his lap.

"You think Proczko's family is still at that address in Richmond?" Sam asked, noticing the frown on Callen's face.

"I hope so," Callen said. "His attorney thought they were."

"His attorney was no help at all," Sam said. "Did you believe him, G?"

"You mean the part about not having seen Proczko since he got out of prison?" Callen said. "Not sure, Sam. He seemed genuinely surprised when we showed him those photos of the victims."

"I think he's scared he might be next," Sam said.

"He could be," Callen said. "Sam, let's stop in Richmond first. Maybe Proczko's family will talk to us. At least we might be able to tell if he's been staying here."

"You think they know what he's been up to?" Sam asked.

"Let's show them the pictures and see what reaction we get," Callen said.

"You still mad at me?" Sam asked as they drove toward Richmond.

"You're too hard on him sometimes, that's all I'm saying," Callen said.

"We made up, G, so let it go," Sam said.

"He can take care of himself, Sam," Callen responded. "You know that."

"Yeah, then why is he nursing a bullet wound?" Sam said.

"If you knew some guy had been asking about you, wouldn't you confront him?" Callen asked.

"I wouldn't have gotten shot doing it," Sam said loudly.

"Now, you're just bragging," Callen laughed.

"It's not bragging if it's the truth," Sam said with a smile. "We're here, G."

The two agents approached the house warily. The garage was empty and the screen door was slightly open. When they knocked there was no response, so Callen tried the door. It was open, which caused both agents to pull their weapons. Calling out that they were Federal agents, they entered and began to search the house. It was empty.

"They left in a hurry," Sam said as he picked up a plate of half eaten spoiled food covered in flies.

"And they've been gone awhile," Callen said thoughtfully.

"You think they went back in LA, G?" Sam asked.

"Something's not right here, Sam," Callen said and Sam could see the concern. "Did you check the closets?"

Sam quickly moved to the bedroom and then called for Callen.

"You might want to cover your nose and mouth," Sam said as Callen entered the hallway. "Looks like a woman and she's been dead for some time. Might be Proczko's wife."

"What the hell happened to this guy?" Callen said as he looked down at the decomposing body. "He finally gets out of prison and then just starts killing everybody?"

"Maybe he had a mental breakdown or something," Sam said shaking his head.

"It's something alright," Callen said. "And Deeks is on his shit list."

...


	5. Chapter 5

**Vengeance: Chapter 5**

...

Deeks had spent the last hour on his laptop going over the information Eric had found on the man who tried to kill him, Pavlo Skalik. He had confirmed that the man was Ukrainian and had immigrated to the US about the same time as Proczko. Although they were both from the same city and Eric thought they might have known each other, he couldn't prove it. For the past six years Skalik had traveled extensively throughout Europe and Interpol had amassed a rather thick file on him, believing him to be a low level killer for several gangs, but even they had been unable to pin any particular hit on him.

Deeks closed his eyes and leaned back, absently rubbing his wounded arm, which caught Kensi's eye.

"Is it hurting?" she asked.

"What? No. Maybe a little," he said, flashing her a brief, embarrassed grin. "Why, you want to kiss and make it better, Nurse Blye?"

She smiled back and got up slowly, moving toward him with an ever-widening smile. Before she reached him his cell phone rang and he held up one finger, smiling as he answered.

"Hey, Callen. Find anything?"

"Yeah, a lot of dead bodies," Callen said. "Deeks, Yavik Proczko's entire family is dead. We found his wife's body in the bedroom and his brother and his wife in another. His daughter's body was in the laundry room. The ME says they've all been dead for at least ten days. He killed them all, Deeks."

"What the fuck?" Deeks was shocked. "You think Proczko killed his own family? That doesn't make any sense, Callen. He loved them, especially his daughter. He warned me that if I ever touched her he would strangle me to death."

"Didn't you tell us LAPD talked with the family after your shooting?" Callen asked.

"Yeah, Bates told me one of the detectives called a cell number his attorney had provided, but whoever they talked to told them to fuck off."

"Deeks, watch your back," Callen said quietly. "If Proczko went off the deep end, he's taking out everybody he knows. We're headed to San Quentin to see if he was having psychological problems."

"Keep us posted," Deeks said.

Deeks threw the phone down and put his head in his hands, stunned and confused by what Callen had told him. Hetty had come over to the bullpen when she'd heard him swear and after hearing what Callen and Sam had discovered, she took charge, calling Eric and Nell down from Ops.

"Kensi, I want you to go talk to Proczko's attorney," she said. "If he won't cooperate, bring him to the boat shed. Mr. Deeks, call Lieutenant Bates and get the number of the family's cell phone. Eric, see if you can find any traffic cams or security footage that shows who went in and out of that house. Nell, come with me."

Everyone scattered to follow her instructions except for Deeks. He stroked his beard and tried to make sense of everything that had happened, but he couldn't. The man he remembered might have been a drug dealer and a murderer, but he was also a happy family man, as incongruous as that was. At the dinners Deeks had been invited to, he could only recall a harmonious atmosphere. If he was being honest with himself, he had been a little jealous of the love Proczko had shown to all the members of his family and they had returned that love without question. At the time, he hadn't even been sure the family knew what he did for a living. But it was the death of the daughter, Nataliya, that made him doubt the idea that Proczko killed his own family. She had been a beautiful girl and Proczko was always talking about her, what she had done in school or in gymnastics and he was always buying her expensive presents. Deeks shook his head, unable to come to terms with her death, especially at the hands of her own father.

He did as Hetty had asked, getting the family's cell number and then running it up to Eric. When he entered the darkened room, he stopped abruptly, staring up at the big screen at the forensic photos taken at the crime scene. He was used to seeing dead bodies, but he had known all of these people and his stomach clinched with nausea as he stared at them, particularly Nataliya's body. She was lying on her back next to an overturned basket of moldy laundry, her chest dark with dried blood and her pale eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

"No way," he said softly, making Eric turn toward him. "No way, Yavik did this."

"Why do you think that, Mr. Deeks," Hetty asked as she entered the room.

"He loved his daughter, Hetty," Deeks said. "No way he could have looked her in the eyes and shot her point blank."

"If that's true Mr. Deeks, then this is more complicated than we know," she replied as her cell phone rang.

"What did he have to say, Miss Blye?" Hetty questioned.

Deeks tensed when he saw her face change ever so slightly as she sucked in a breath. She ended the call and stared at Deeks.

"Proczko's attorney is dead," she said. "And there was a message left on his laptop signed by Yavik Proczko. He confessed to killing his whole family and he wrote that he was going to kill as many people associated with his past as he could, including you Mr. Deeks. He said you had ruined his life and that now he was going to take yours."

The rest of the day was a blur for Deeks. No one had any idea where Proczko was and there was no security or traffic cam footage that showed the Proczko family house in Richmond. Eric was still searching for their missing car, but hadn't found it yet, and the security cameras in the attorney's office building hadn't been working for some time. Every avenue he followed was a dead end.

Callen and Sam came back late in the day, informing the team that there was no indication that Proczko had had a nervous breakdown while in prison or any other psychological problems for that matter. By the time Deeks and Kensi got back to the safe house he was exhausted, his mind in turmoil and after a quick dinner of drive-thru burgers he went to bed. The last thing he said to Kensi before finally falling asleep was that nothing made any sense.

...

...

"What kind of mood is he in today, Kensi?" Sam asked. She had rarely let Deeks out of her sight the past three weeks, so he was surprised to find her alone in the bullpen.

"An angry, frustrated one," she snapped. "Sorry, Sam, but he's starting to get on my nerves. Callen made him go spar with him in the gym. I think he was afraid I would shoot him."

"He probably just needs to blow off a little steam, Kens," Sam said. "He's been cooped up for three weeks."

"So have I," Kensi said, catching Sam off-guard by the irritation in her voice.

"Then why don't you go home," Deeks said loudly as he came into the bullpen wiping the sweat off his face. "I don't need you to stay with me at the safe house. I can watch my own back."

"Deeks, that's not what I meant and you know it," Kensi said angrily.

"Sounds like the love nest is getting a little too cozy," Sam said with a light laugh.

"Shut up, Sam!" Kensi and Deeks snapped at him in unison.

Deeks made a u-turn back toward the gym and Kensi slammed her laptop closed and headed up to Ops, leaving Sam stunned by their outburst.

"I'd stay out of Deeks' way today, Sam," Callen said as he walked into the bullpen.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked as he took in the bleeding cut under Callen's left eye.

"Deeks wasn't in the mood for an easy sparring session," Callen said as he wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. "He went for a full on fight and he won."

"He beat you? In a boxing match?" Sam was incredulous and let out a laugh.

"It wasn't a boxing match, Sam, it was a street fight," Callen said. "Did you forget where he grew up?"

"Let me have a look at you Mr. Callen," Hetty said. She had the first aid kit in hand as she approached and he looked at her with a shade of suspicion in his eyes.

"Were you watching, Hetty?" he asked.

"He's quite a scrapper, don't you think?" she said as she pushed him down into his chair. "You certainly had your hands full, Mr. Callen."

"Hetty, he beat the crap out of me, and I wasn't holding back," Callen said as she examined the cuts and bruises on his face.

"Yes, he did," Hetty said. "I think both of your eyes might turn black, Mr. Callen. How are your ribs?"

"Hurting. You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Callen said, making it more of a statement than a question.

"Or course not, Mr. Callen. I would have stopped it if it had gotten out of hand." she said as she treated him.

"So getting the shit beat out of me is acceptable?" Callen asked, wincing as she cleaned a cut below his lip.

"No, Mr. Callen, but I needed to see just how far Mr. Deeks would take it," she answered. "Don't worry, I'll deal with him. I think it's time for Mr. Deeks to leave LA for his own protection and for yours of course."

"Hetty, that nut job Proczko is still out there looking to kill him," Sam said. "If you send him away, how are we going to protect him?"

"Joe Atwood's wedding takes place in a week," she answered. "I've spoken to his father, George, and he is more than willing to have Mr. Deeks come to the ranch early."

"How early?" Deeks spoke up quietly from behind them.

"Your flight leaves in three hours, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said firmly. "Have someone you haven't ticked off or beat up, drive you to the safe house and get packed."

"What about Joe's bachelor party?" He asked softly. "It's tomorrow night."

"I'm afraid you're going to miss that, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said as she packed up her first aid kit. "You got to beat up Mr. Callen instead."

"Hetty, I'm sorry. I just lost it," he said. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"Oh, I know it won't, Mr. Deeks. Because if it ever does, I'll suspend you," Hetty walked past him solemnly and he dropped his head to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Callen," Deeks said quietly, looking quickly at him before turning and walking out toward the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sam asked.

"I'll catch a cab, Sam," he said as he started to push open the door.

"Like hell you will," Sam said, following him out. "You didn't beat me up, so I'll drive you. I don't want any arguments, either. And if you try and punch me, you'll end up missing the wedding, too."

Callen wandered over to Hetty's office just as Kensi stormed down the stairs from Ops. Finding no one in the bullpen, she walked over to join Callen in Hetty's office.

"Where is he?" she asked sharply as Callen turned around to face her.

"Sam's driving him to the safe house," he answered.

"Did he do that to you?" she asked, surprised by the damage she saw on his face.

"Mr. Deeks is flying to Wyoming in a few hours, Miss Blye," Hetty told her. "He's not handling things well and he's starting to take it out on his colleagues. I can't let that go on."

"Hetty, he just feels trapped in that safe house," she pleaded for him. "He hasn't been able to go out at all or surf or even go to the beach. He can't do any of the things he normally does to relieve the stress he's feeling."

"Then Wyoming will be good for him, Kensi," Hetty said kindly. "He can relax there and find some of the freedom he's missed these last few weeks. And I doubt Yavik Proczko will fly to Wyoming to carry out his vendetta. He'll be safe there."

"I should be there with him Hetty," Kensi said. "I'm his partner."

"Yes, well, a little space now and again never hurts any relationship," Hetty said with a sparkle in her eye. "Give him a few days alone, Miss Blye and I can guarantee he will have forgotten about all the ways you got on his nerves over the past few weeks."

"You think I got on his nerves?" Kensi asked, her body stiffening at the comment.

"Of course you did, Kensi," Hetty said softly. "You placed yourself in his line of fire. You hover around him constantly in order to protect him and knowing men as I do, that began to bother him. He's been self reliant for a very long time, so having anyone look out for him this long is bound to drive him ape-shit."

"He couldn't take it out on you, Kens," Callen said. "So, he took it out on me."

Kensi nodded and then wandered back to her desk, reaching for her phone to call him, but thinking better of it. She'd give him the space Hetty suggested and she took a deep breath, suddenly realizing how tightly she had been holding herself for the last few days. There had been tension building between them for some time, and it had made her wonder about their future together. Even though these were extraordinary circumstances, the implications for their future as a couple worried her nonetheless. Maybe it really wasn't meant to be. As much as she loved him and as much as he loved her, it had not stopped them from arguing with each other over the most mundane things the last few nights. They were definitely getting on each other's nerves, so she put down her phone and decided to enjoy her own freedom for the next few days. She had actually missed her own house, especially her bed, and although she would miss having him next to her, cuddling with him, among other things, and waking up to his soft snoring in the morning, she was starting to look forward to a little alone time. She smiled and her mind began to swirl with memories of private bubble baths, having the couch all to herself, not having to share her favorite ice cream, long, solitary runs on the beach and most of all the peace that comes with silence.

...

Eric approached Hetty and Callen with relief. In between cases, he had kept looking for Yavik Proczko, and in the past three weeks he had found nothing. A few minutes ago that had all changed.

"I got something," Eric said. "I found Yavik Proczko's car. It showed up on a traffic cam in Eagle Rock. I tracked it to an auto dismantler. It's there now."

"I'll take Kensi and check it out," Callen said. "Let me know if he leaves, Eric."

The two agents hardly spoke as they sped toward Eagle Rock. The thought that this might be the end of a harrowing month of uncertainty hung in the air between them, each one afraid to jinx it by talking about it.

"Eric, is the car still there?" Callen said into his comm.

"It's moved inside the yard, Callen," Eric said.

"Do you think he's just trying to dump it?" Kensi asked, nervously rubbing her hands on her legs.

"We're about to find out," Callen said as he pulled up in front of a seedy building. The white paint was flaking off the concrete block structure and the red plastic sign was broken, showing only half the letters of the name of the business. The chain link gate on the side was open and since there was no one in the office, the two agents headed for the yard. They were greeted by piles of auto parts, most of them rusted and strewn across the dirt lot in no organized fashion. They saw a man talking to another next to the car they were tracking and they pulled their weapons.

"Federal agents," Callen yelled as they moved quickly forward, their guns trained on both men.

"Whoa, man, take it easy," The man in dirty jeans and a grey tee shirt said. "This is a legitimate business."

The other man just looked shocked, backing up against the car, slowly raising his hands as he looked from Kensi to Callen and then back again.

"This your car?" Callen demanded.

"I bought it for cash yesterday," the scared man said. "It just needs a little work."

"It's not him, Callen," Kensi said as she lowered her weapon.

"Who did you buy it from?" Callen asked quietly as he holstered his gun.

"Some foreigner," the man said, finally taking a deep breath. "Kinda creepy, actually. Is he a fugitive?"

"Did he give you his name?" Kensi asked.

"Just his first name. Something like Jacob, I think," he answered.

"Yavik?" Callen asked.

"Yeah, yeah, that was it," the man smiled. "He said he needed the cash."

"Where did you meet?" Callen said, as anger suddenly flashed through him.

"There's a vacant lot just north of here where people bring cars they want to sell," the man explained. "He drove in and I was the first guy he talked to."

"How did he leave?" Callen asked.

"He just walked off," the man said.

Callen and Kensi looked dejectedly at each other, knowing their last physical link to Yavik Proczko was broken and he was in the wind.

...


	6. Chapter 6

**Vengeance: Chapter 6**

...

Hetty had felt the strain of the past three weeks culminate in her threat to suspend Deeks if he ever took out his frustrations on another member of the team. Watching him pummel Callen unmercifully until he realized what he was doing had surprised her. She prided herself on being able to read even the most subtle signs of stress in her agents, and although she knew he was getting wound tighter and tighter, she hadn't expected him to break in the way he had, and it bothered her. She should have anticipated his response and it left her questioning herself and her usual uncanny ability to read the members of her team.

She had tried to ease them back to the way they'd been before Lee Chao had almost killed them all, but over the seven months since that disastrous day, she had become aware of faint differences in the way they related to each other, particularly to Deeks. He had changed, become more independent and confident in his abilities and much less intimidated by Sam and Callen. Even his relationship with Kensi had shifted slightly and it left all of them a little uncertain around him. His sense of humor was still in evidence, and he was still somewhat of a wiseass, but the others derided him much less than before. They treated him with more respect because he had earned it with the way he had handled himself after Lee Chao's attack, while at the same time feeling even more protective of him than they had before. Even though they had all changed in subtle ways, she could see that their affection for each other was unwavering, having grown deeper due to the suffering they had endured as a team.

"Hetty?" Callen called out softly. "You okay? I've watched you hold that cup of tea without taking a sip for about fifteen minutes."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid my mind has been elsewhere, Mr. Callen," she answered. "Now, of course, it's gone cold."

She rose to make a new pot, eyeing how gingerly he was still carrying himself.

"Feeling any better, Mr. Callen?" she asked, noticing that he had taken up residence in one of her chairs.

"Worse, actually," he said with a grunt. "Deeks called me before he boarded his flight. He was pretty upset with himself. He wanted to know how I was and if he had hurt me."

"What did you tell him?" Hetty said, turning to get a look at his face as he answered.

"Well, I sure as hell didn't let him know I'm feeling every punch," Callen said with smirk. "And, I razzed him enough to make him believe it."

"That was kind of you, Mr. Callen" Hetty said.

"Kindness had nothing to do with it, Hetty," Callen replied. "Can't have the kid thinking he can take me."

"Oh, but he did, Mr. Callen. I was watching, remember?" Hetty said with a small enigmatic smile.

"You're not going to tell him that are you?" Callen said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"I wouldn't think of it , Mr. Callen," she laughed, seeing him smile in return.

...

Deeks tried to sleep after the brief stop in Denver, but the flight became bumpy and the lady next to him was a white-knuckle flyer and grabbed his wrist, squeezing so hard his hand went numb. After that he spent a half hour or so talking to her so she wouldn't completely panic. She kept ordering Bloody Marys and became quite hilarious after the second one. At least it kept his mind off of why he was flying alone to Wyoming.

When the lady was finally snoring softly next to him, his thoughts turned once again to his embarrassing lapse while sparring with Callen. He remembered the instant his anger sparked hot and the lack of control that came with it. Callen had mentioned something about his undercover assignment with Proczko and the man's warning about coming anywhere near his daughter, and he'd just lost it. He had blindly torn into him with all the vicious punches he had learned as a skinny kid from a bad neighborhood with nothing to lose. He wasn't sure what had made him stop, but he was relieved when he'd come to his senses, and so very sorry. He knew he'd hurt him, no matter how much he claimed just the opposite, and he wondered what kind of payback he'd be in for when he got back. Now, he hoped his time with George would give him a sense of peace and some breathing space to get his head back on straight. He still felt bad about missing Joe's bachelor party, but Hetty was right to send him away. He hadn't been good company for Kensi for over a week, and their time apart might help. He was surprised she hadn't been the one to snap and beat the crap out of him. All in all, he was probably safer in Wyoming.

His heart lifted as he saw the Tetons hovering in the distance, a band of clouds separating the peaks from the land below. He hadn't realized how much the landscape had gotten to him during the time he had spent at the ranch and he eagerly looked forward to seeing George Atwood and getting reacquainted with Sheila and the dogs. There were only three now, Fred, the little Corgi, had died in his sleep a couple of months ago. He had been saddened by that, realizing he didn't want anything to change about the place, because it felt like home, which was still very special and amazing to him.

As the plane descended into Laramie, the Bloody Mary lady woke up and chatted with him until the plane landed, thanking him for his kindness and inviting him to visit her in Laramie if he got the chance. It reminded him just how different this place was from LA. As she waved goodbye in the terminal, he was engulfed in a huge bear hug from behind and laughed as he tried to catch his breath.

"How come you only come here when you're in trouble, son?" George asked with a smile.

"What did Hetty tell you?" he asked, embarrassed all over again.

"Said you were beatin' up the staff and being a pain in the ass," George laughed.

"Yeah, I kinda think they were happy to be rid of me," he said as he grabbed his small suitcase.

George gave him a good hard look when he heard him say that and Deeks realized how much he had missed the man.

"They care about you, son. Don't ever forget that," George said softly. "Who'd you beat up, anyway?"

"Callen," Deeks answered with a sheepish smile.

"Did he have it coming, or did he just push the right button?" George asked.

"All my fault, George," Deeks sighed deeply as he looked at the ground.

"I figured that, or Hetty wouldn't have sent you way out here," George said. "But, you aren't the kind to just explode without some kinda push."

"Thanks for saying so, George," Deeks said, relieved he wasn't going to get a lecture this early in the visit.

"What's this really about, Marty?" George asked as he reached out and laid his hand on Deeks' shoulder.

"Can we talk about it later?" Deeks asked. "I'm really tired of thinking about all the people who want to kill me."

George didn't say a thing. He simply put his arm around Deeks' shoulder and steered him toward the exit. They drove along the meandering highway in silence and Deeks was thankful for that. He stared out the window of the truck at the darkening northern sky as low clouds roiled on the horizon. The sun broke through briefly, lighting up the billowing pale golden grasses skimming by and Deeks slowly began to relax. The vast openness of the grasslands was a welcome relief from the confining atmosphere he'd been living with for the past three weeks, and he took in a deep breath of earthy, bracing air. He found himself eager to reach the ranch and roughhouse with the dogs and whistle for Sheila, something he'd taught her before leaving almost four months ago. When George pulled the truck onto an unfamiliar dirt road, he looked over to see a small smile on his face and wondered who lived in the two story white house at the end.

"Gotta make a stop before we head home," George said, looking like a man with a secret .

As they drove up to the house Deeks could hear the raucous barking of dogs mixed with the high-pitched yipping of puppies. He saw the kennel attached to the barn and smiled expectantly at George.

"Thought you could occupy yourself with a little puppy training while you're here," George said with a wide grin. "Three dogs just seems like an uneven number to me."

The two men were greeted by a strong looking women wearing jeans tucked into cowboy boots and a checkered shirt covered by a suede vest who walked quickly up to George and gave him a hug before turning toward Deeks, firmly shaking his hand. He wasn't sure of her age, but her hair was a soft golden color that blew gently back from her weathered face, which featured deep, curious brown eyes.

"This is Katherine Lovejoy," George said. "She raises Labrador Retrievers."

"Call me Kate, Marty," she said as she strode past them toward the kennel. "George told me you're a dog person."

"I better be if I'm staying with George," he replied, hurrying to keep up with her.

"They're good company," George said softly. "Since you and Joe don't visit very often, I thought I needed to add to the family."

"I think Joe and Diane will be doing that fairly soon, George," she laughed, linking her arm with his as they finally came to a stop in front of a chain link enclosure filled with barking dogs and a mix of black and yellow Lab puppies tumbling over each other in an effort to be the first one to the gate. Kate opened the gate with a sharp command to get back and waded into the mass of enthusiastic dogs. The puppies all began jumping with excitement except for one pale yellow puppy that whined and hid behind his mother. Kate walked over and stroked the big dog and then gently lifted the puppy up to her shoulder and turned back toward them. She finally managed to make it out without stepping on any of them and came to stand before George in the softening light.

"You still sure she's the one you want?" Kate asked as she held the puppy out to him. "She's a scaredy dog, like I told you."

"She just needs a little love and kindness to build her confidence," George said as he held the dog out in front of him and stared into her dark eyes.

Deeks wasn't surprised that George had picked out the skittish one in the litter. He seemed to have a second sense about the creatures who needed him most, even people. He was happy for the dog, because he knew she had found the right owner and he looked forward to watching the two of them together.

"What are you gonna call her, George?" Deeks asked.

"Boo," he answered as he handed the puppy to Deeks. "See if you can teach her that before you leave."

"I thought you were the trainer?" Deeks said with surprise.

"Thought you could use a sleeping companion while you're here," George said with a grin. "Train her good, or you'll be changin' bed linens every four hours."

"You have trained a puppy before, haven't you?" Kate asked as she saw the look on Deeks' face. "You had puppies as a kid, right?"

"No," Deeks said quietly and saw George shake his head slightly at Kate and she nodded in response.

"Well, let me give you a training manual," she said quickly, "Come on up to the house and we can have a cup of coffee and sign the final papers on the sale."

"I had a couple of strays I took in when I was a teenager," Deeks said as he followed her. "And I have a retired police dog that keeps me company in LA, but Monty was fully trained when I met him."

"Those kind of dogs train you," Kate said, looking at him keenly as she opened the door to the house.

Kate showed him into the living room and he slouched down into the well-worn sofa as Kate led George into the kitchen. He placed the puppy on his lap and began to rub her ears, getting a soft groan in return that made him smile. He rubbed his thumbs through the fur of her neck and pulled her up onto his chest, feeling her tail slowly begin to thump up and down on his stomach as she squirmed toward his face. Her dark eyes stared intently at him and he laughed when her warm, pink tongue began to lick his face. He gently stroked her as she nuzzled beneath his ear, her cold nose sending rippling chills down his neck. She was so soft and wiggly that he forgot all about the last few days and the tension that had built up until he had reached the breaking point. He buried his face in the warmth of her coat and felt his muscles release as the dog became still and slowly slipped into sleep on his shoulder. He felt his own eyes get heavy and might have fallen asleep if George hadn't touched his arm as he handed him a cup of strong smelling coffee.

"I think you're a natural, Marty," Kate said as she sat down across from him.

...

...

"Nell? Are you still at OSPs?" Hetty asked. The turmoil between Deeks and Callen had worn her out and she was looking forward to sinking into the comfort of her bed with a good book in hand when the unexpected call came in.

"I was following up on something that caught my eye earlier," Nell replied. "It just took me a little longer than I anticipated to track it down, but Eric helped and I think I have a solid lead."

"Is it Granger?" Hetty asked.

"Hetty, I think I've found his new bank account," Nell said softly. "I spotted the man in the Panama hat on a bank security camera in Alexandria, Egypt and with a little help from Eric...well, with a lot of help from Eric, we were able to hack the bank's system. I think he is traveling under the name of Jonathan Roark."

Hetty was suddenly silent and heard Nell call her name, thinking they'd been disconnected, but a quick intake of breath let her know she was still on the line.

"I'm proud of you Nell and please tell Eric that any request he may have to take the day off to attend one of his strange little conferences is granted," Hetty said. "Now, send me everything you've found and then you two go have a late dinner somewhere expensive on me."

"Hetty, there's more," Nell said solemnly. "Wilhelm Jürgen was with him at the bank, but later he was picked up on a security camera at the airport."

"Did you find out where he was headed?" Hetty asked, unable to stop the sense of dread that filled her.

"Mexico City," Nell answered.

"And Granger?" Hetty asked.

"Lost him," Nell replied. "But as far as I know, he's still in Egypt."

"Thank you, Nell," Hetty said softly. "Now, shut it down for the night."

Hetty sat quietly thinking as the night deepened. She had known Owen Granger for a long time, and she was confused by where he was going and what he was up to. She knew he had been stunned by his defeat at the Congressional hearings, but to threaten an agent because of it had shaken her. She'd thought he would have had other options when he resigned, but to just drop off the grid was not like him. But his alignment with Wilhelm Jürgen was the most frightening development. Working with the former Stasi agent took the game to a whole other level, a deeply disturbing one and she wasn't exactly sure what it meant for her team and especially for Marty Deeks, but a sense of foreboding wouldn't leave her as she made her way to her small office to look through Nell's latest discoveries. She hoped Mr. Deeks was sleeping well in Wyoming, because she knew she wouldn't be for some time.

...


	7. Chapter 7

**Vengeance: Chapter 7**

...

He was startled awake by the touch of Boo's cold nose on his cheek as the puppy climbed up on his chest. The dog's sharp teeth nipping at his nose caused him to sit up instantly and laugh at the surprised look on the face of the wiggling puppy as he held her out in front of him. Sheila snorted behind him and he felt her hot breath on his neck as the horse's large head came over his shoulder to snuffled at the puppy, making the skittish little Lab whine and struggle to escape. Deeks tucked the quivering dog under his arm, gently rubbing her ears to calm her as he stared out over the burbling creek, taking in the swaying, yellow willows that lined its banks. The soft murmuring sounds of doves filled the air and he watched expectantly as a hawk dove toward the ground just on the other side of the creek, the cries and calls of other birds drawing his attention as he relaxed against the trunk of a fallen tree.

He's a city boy, born and bred, and in LA the only bird calls he knows are the lonely cries of the gulls as they float over the incoming waves. Out here, learning what sounds come from which birds had been difficult for him when George first began to teach him the last time he was here. He had laughed at the need to know such things, but he hadn't wanted to disappoint the patient man, so he'd quietly tried to make sense of the competing sounds until he was surprised to discover he enjoyed it, pestering George for help whenever he heard a new bird call and trying to spot the small creature making it.

It hadn't taken long for the peaceful surroundings of the ranch to lull him into a slower pace and ease the tension that had been plaguing him since he'd found out there was a hit out on him. All of that was so far away and he smiled inwardly at how calm he now felt, contrasting it with the explosion of anger that had caused Hetty to send him out here. He was grateful for this place of refuge and he leaned back against the rough bark of the fallen cottonwood and listened to Sheila as she quietly cropped the grasses that surrounded them. He laughed softly to himself, remembering his first greeting from the horse. She had tossed her head up and down when he'd first approached her and then she'd tried to bite him before turning away from him and huffing as she continued to toss her head and flick her tail back and forth. It had surprised him, but when he looked at George he saw him trying to hold in a laugh, finally telling him the horse definitely seemed mad at him. It had taken two days for Sheila to forgive him and that was only after he bribed her with the biggest carrot he could find. Now it was like old times between the two and he felt content.

He set Boo down next to him and smiled as she began to track a grasshopper across the soft ground, leaping whenever it did and causing him to laugh out loud when it jumped back toward the puppy, causing her to somersault over backwards in her attempt to get away from it.

"You really are a wimpy dog, Boo Boo," Deeks said as the dog scrambled back to him for protection.

After just three days, the puppy had become his constant companion and he had almost gotten her house broken, except for a few late night mistakes. She was happy to snuggle up next to him on the bed at night and he believed he'd had fewer nightmares because her company. He wasn't sure how she would do when he had to go home, so he made sure to leave her with George occasionally when he went for a ride. She was a sweet little thing and made him laugh, especially when she crawled in between Stinker's legs trying to steal his dinner. The older dog would growl at her, but all of the dogs seemed to tolerate her playfulness, romping with her until they all became exhausted and ended up snoring on the porch.

Deeks reached up to rub his hand along Sheila's neck, wondering how he came to feel so comfortable in a setting so foreign to him. His mind was clear now and it was helping him focus his thoughts on why he was here. He couldn't help but search back through his knowledge of Yavik Proczko and the man's desire for revenge. The whole thing still bothered him, because he felt he was missing something, that all of them were. He knew they all believed the evidence, but he did not and that had caused the riff between he and Callen. The senior agent had tried to convince him that sometimes the things we observe are not necessarily the way things really are. He had told Deeks he had probably seen what he'd wanted to see in the relationship between Proczko and his daughter and that comment had made him mad. When he'd told Callen he was wrong, the agent had persisted, trying to convince him that the ruthless drug dealer was fully capable of killing his own family and even his daughter, telling him he might have had a blind spot when it came to the girl. That had been the spark that had set him off and he had struck out angrily in response.

That he had actually gotten the better of Callen in the all out brawl that followed had surprised him and then disturbed him. He had totally lost it and wasn't sure what had stopped his violent onslaught. He had called Callen the first night he'd been here to apologize again, but the agent had told him not to worry about it. Things seemed different now between the team members and he wasn't sure why, they just were. Their relationships were slightly skewed now, different than they'd been before the Lee Chao operation and it was unsettling. They were a tighter, more cohesive unit, but there was a fragility about it and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just new and they were all still adjusting. Feeling closer to someone didn't always make things simpler.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Sheila raising her head and whinnying, making him aware of an approaching rider. George rode up and dismounted, removing a canvas bag from the saddle horn and quietly walking over to sit down beside him. He should have known George would know exactly where'd he be. So much for being a secret operative around here.

"Thought you might like some lunch," he said, rummaging through the bag and handing Deeks a beer and a plastic container holding a sandwich.

"You use Tupperware?" Deeks asked. "Kind of surprising for a tough cowboy like you."

"Tupperware's tough," George said, shooting him a sharp look.

Deeks shook his head, but realized he was hungry and quickly tucked into his lunch. Boo caught the smell of the ham and kept trying to steal his sandwich, so he ended up sharing it with her. The unexpected picnic was a welcome respite from his mental examination of his predicament and as he finished his beer, George threw him an apple and they both silently ate dessert as they watched a flock ducks sweep down toward the far reaches of the creek where a beaver dam had created a small pond.

George slid his hat down over his eyes and Deeks thought he was going for an afternoon nap. He should have known better.

"You've been out here a long time, son. Want to talk about what's bothering you?" George was just getting comfortable to let Deeks know he was going to stay as long as it took to get him to open up.

"I thought all that anger I was carrying was gone, George," Deeks began after a moment of stubborn silence. "But, Callen's comments about the man trying to kill me brought it back with a vengeance."

"So, you disagreed," George said softly. "What did he get so wrong that made you want to beat the shit out of him?"

"Callen and the rest of them believe Yavik Proczko killed his whole family," Deeks got up and walked over to the edge of the creek. He stared into the cold, rushing water, trying to put into words what he was feeling, finally turning back to face the man whose opinion he greatly respected.

"But, you don't believe that," George said, rising to join Deeks by the creek. He put his hand lightly on his shoulder and looked calmly into his eyes. "And, when he didn't believe you, it pissed you off."

"Yeah," Deeks stood silent for a moment until George clapped him softly on the arm.

"Keep talking, son," George said.

"After all we went through together, I thought they would respect my opinion more," Deeks said quietly.

"Well, beatin' up Callen probably wasn't the best way to earn his respect," George laughed.

"I apologized," Deeks said with a short laugh. "George, I got to know Proczko and his family fairly well and there was love there. I could see it and I could feel it, and believe me, I would have known if there had been tension between them. He loved his daughter. I just don't believe he could kill her in cold blood."

"I thought you told me he confessed," George said as he returned to sit on the trunk of the old cottonwood.

"A typed note on a computer," Deeks said as he stared down at the ground.

"If he didn't kill his family then who did?" George asked.

"I don't know," Deeks said. "A rival, maybe. He made a lot of enemies."

"But you put him in jail and he vowed to kill you," George said, his voice low and tentative. "I think Callen and the rest of them are just worried about you, Marty. Hell, so am I."

"I know," Deeks said sheepishly. "Beating up my team leader wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, so, I didn't exactly leave on a high note. I think Kensi's probably happy not to be stuck in that safe house with me anymore. We argued a lot over the last week I was there and it made me think about our future together or if we really can have one."

"Why, because you argued?" George asked in surprise.

"Working together and living together was harder than I thought," Deeks answered.

"You two never argued before?" George asked.

"Sometimes. But mostly we just teased each other," Deeks said. "Plus, if things got rough we each had our own place to go back to."

"Do you love her?" George asked.

"Yes, but.." Deeks stopped and confusion crept into his eyes and he shook his head and stared silently out over the creek.

"There's no 'but' in love, Marty," George said slowly. "If you love her, nothing is more important and nothing should get in the way of that love. A few harsh words spoken in anger shouldn't be able to shake that love. If it does than your love isn't real. If you do love her, you can disagree about all kinda things, but at the end of the day you just have to say 'I love you' to each other and all that other stuff won't amount to a hill of beans."

"You sound pretty sure about that," Deeks said with a slight smile.

"My wife and I worked this ranch together and we had our share of arguments," George said as his eyes watered. "But we said 'I love you' every night before we went to bed and whenever we had to be apart. It made a difference, because it voiced what we knew was true. It was the last thing I said to her and I'm forever grateful that I did."

George walked off to be by himself for a few minutes and Deeks let him be. He was reminded again of what a good man George Atwood was and he was amazed that he was willing to share such an intimate detail of his life with him. This must be how real fathers talk to their sons and he choked up at the thought.

Both men were brought out of their reflections by the yelping of Boo as she tumbled into the creek, the fast rushing water quickly taking her downstream. Deeks ran breathlessly along the bank as the puppy struggled to swim and keep her head above the tumbling stream. He finally got far enough ahead of her and waded into the creek, only to stumble on the uneven bottom and fall in face first. He sputtered as he came up out of the icy water, but he had the puppy firmly in his grasp and he laughed out loud with relief. He waded to the edge of the bank where George gave him a hand out.

"Kate warned me that all Labs love the water," George said. "Guess it's the one thing Boo's not afraid of."

"You scared me, Boo baby," Deeks said as he began to shiver. The little pup wiggled mightily and Deeks put her down on the grass where she promptly shook the water off and wagged her tail as she set off at a run back toward Sheila who stood watching curiously from behind the cottonwood.

"Don't be afraid, Marty," George said.

"She didn't scare me that bad George," Deeks said as he tried to shake the water from his own hair.

"I mean about making a life with Kensi," George said. "Sometimes you just have to dive into life and see where it takes you."

"Hopefully, it'll take me someplace warmer than this creek." Deeks said as his body began to chill.

"Come on, son," George laughed. "You came out looking worse than that pup."

When they got back to the barn, Deeks teeth were chattering and George handed Boo to him and sent him into the house for a hot shower. When Deeks came into the living room dressed in the warmest clothes he'd brought, George had a roaring fire going in the fireplace and he quickly moved to stand in front of it.

"Nice," Deeks said.

"Now try this," George said as he handed him a glass of scotch. "You need to warm up on the inside."

"Thanks, George," Deeks said softly as he stared into the crackling fire. "For everything. For including me in your family and for just talking to me. I really appreciate it, more than you could ever know."

"I enjoy spending time with you, Marty," George said. "It'll be good having two boys in the house again. Joe is coming in first thing tomorrow and Diane will be staying with her mom, so it'll just be us men."

"Can't wait to hear about Joe's bachelor party," Deeks said. "Think he missed me?"

"Well, I know he misses working with you everyday," George said as he joined Deeks in front of the fire.

"Yeah, I miss that too," Deeks replied.

"Watch out for yourself when you get back to LA, will you son?" George asked, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck. "It would hurt me to lose you."

Deeks looked over at the man and had no idea what to say. His words had touched him deeply and he smiled and blinked rapidly as his eyes watered. George slapped him softly on the back and turned away and headed outside, leaving Deeks to marvel at the change this one man had made in his life. To have someone care for him like a father was a new experience he never tired of.

He sat down on the couch and picked up the sleeping puppy and put her in his lap.

"You've come to the right home, Boo," Deeks said softly. "We both have."

...

...

Eric's whistle pierced the quiet of the bullpen causing several dirty looks in his direction. The serious look on his face stopped any comments and the agents quickly made their way upstairs, where Hetty waited for them, a look of deep concern on her face. The photos of a dead man filled the big screen and they all looked expectantly at Hetty for an explanation.

"These photos were emailed to Lieutenant Bates this morning. His name was Jackson Hightower and he created designer drugs for Yavik Proczko on a regular basis until they had a falling out just before he was taken down by Mr. Deeks."

"Photos look the same as the others," Callen said. "Except the one showing him being buried."

"Any clue on where these were taken, Eric?" Sam asked.

"No, not a thing on that," Eric answered. "But I was able to trace the IP address on the email. It was sent from an internet cafe in Chula Vista."

"That's below San Diego," Kensi said. "Do we think that's where this guy was killed?"

"Not according to his girlfriend," Nell said. "LAPD detectives interviewed her this morning and she said he has been with her every night this past week except for last night. They had just moved in together."

"So these were probably taken somewhere around LA," Callen said. "But why send the photos from Chula Vista?"

"Maybe Proczko is hiding in Mexico," Sam said.

"No record of him crossing back and forth across the border," Eric said.

"That wouldn't make sense. Too many security cameras along the border," Callen said.

"But he is active again," Hetty said. "And that is dangerous for Mr. Deeks. Ms. Blye, I think you need to be in Wyoming watching your partner's back."

Kensi nodded and headed for the door.

"I'll see you at the wedding, Kensi," Hetty called after her.

"You're going to Wyoming, Hetty?" Callen asked with a grin.

"Of course, Mr. Callen. I promised George Atwood a bottle of single malt scotch," Hetty said airily as she walked out. "Besides, I love weddings and George promised to take me to the Rustic Bar in Saratoga for a little local color."

"For George's sake, I sure hope they don't have a mechanical bull," Callen said softly to Sam.

"I heard that, Mr. Callen." Hetty voice echoed back.

...


	8. Chapter 8

**Vengeance: Chapter 8**

...

Deeks' hand went once again to the crown of his new cowboy hat, taking it off briefly to stare at it and rub his fingers lightly over the soft brown felt before setting it back over his unruly hair. The leather hatband, decorated with silver studs and small stars made him smile and feel like a kid playing dress up for a movie. He remembered the pleased look on George's face when he'd given it to him last night after dinner. He'd claimed he was tired of seeing him in the beat up old straw one he had worn every day since he'd been on the ranch. He'd told him if he showed up at the wedding in that old thing, he'd embarrass the family and that he needed proper headgear for the coming winter, even though they both knew he would be leaving the day after the wedding. He glanced over at him as they waited at the gate for Joe and Diane's plane to land. The gift had touched him in some indefinable way. How a simple hat could make him feel as if he belonged was a mystery that he didn't want to explore, he was just happy to be included in George's family and this idyllic world of cowboys and horses and little puppies that fell into creeks.

"There they are," George said with eagerness as he strode toward his son. He wrapped him in a mighty hug and was only slightly gentler with Diane.

"Hey, man. Sorry about missing your party," Deeks said as he shook hands with Joe before pulling him into a quick hug.

"Oh, you weren't there? Gosh, I didn't notice," Joe said as Deeks gave Diane a quick kiss.

"I guess I deserve that," Deeks said, an embarrassed smile playing around his lips.

"Yeah, dumb-ass, you do," Joe said with a laugh as he threw an arm around his neck and grabbed the new hat off his head.

"Who'd you beat up to get this fine hat, man?" Joe said as he tried it on. "Hey, you do have a big head."

"I thought he could use one that didn't spoil your wedding, son," George said and they all turned to look at him.

Deeks' eyes were immediately drawn to the figure standing quietly behind George, her dark brown hair bouncing gently on her shoulders as she set down her carry-on bag.

"Kensi," Deeks walked slowly toward her, his heart racing at the warmth of her smile.

"Surprise," she said as he pulled her into a tentative embrace before taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently, ignoring the people who had to walk around them as they made their way to baggage claim.

"Why didn't you call and tell me you were coming?" Deeks asked quietly.

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise, dumb-ass," Joe said as he and the others joined them.

"Kensi, this is my dad, George," Joe said.

She held out her hand to him but was quickly smothered by one of George's signature hugs and Deeks and Joe exchanged knowing smiles at the shocked look on her face as she tried to regain her breath.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Kensi," George said as he squeezed Deeks' shoulder. "Marty's always talking about you. He told me you were beautiful, but I thought he was just exaggerating like all men do when they're in love."

Kensi looked at Deeks as he tilted his head at her, his face breaking into a smile before he bit his bottom lip and looked away in embarrassment.

"Thank you for the compliment Mr. Atwood. So, what else did he tell you about me?" Kensi asked, her eyes flashing at Deeks.

"Nothin' that can't wait until lunch," George said as he moved over to put his arm around Kensi's shoulder and turn her toward baggage claim.

"Now, you better start calling me George, or I'm gonna think you don't like me," George said, his voice softening as he spoke. "Marty's family now, Kensi, so go easy on him, okay?"

"He doesn't need protection from me, George," Kensi said. "I'm here to protect him."

"That the only reason?" George asked in a whisper so the others wouldn't hear. "Or is that just the excuse?"

"You would make a good interrogator, Mr. Atwood," Kensi laughed.

"Just protecting my own, Miss Blye," George said as he let go of her shoulder and turned to face her. "He's pretty vulnerable when it comes to you. He loves you. So cut him some slack while you're here. It's safe at the ranch and you two will have all the space you need to work out your differences."

"You really care about him," Kensi said with a hint of surprise.

"Yeah, I do," George replied as the others gathered around, waiting for their bags.

George went to help Joe and Diane pull large bags off the carousel, leaving Kensi and Deeks by themselves. He took her hand and looked warily at her, but the look he got in return surprised him. He had been prepared to revisit the anger that had marked their last week together, but her face was soft and covered with a look of gentle surprise and openness.

"You've ended up in quite a family, Deeks," she said with a laugh. "I thought George might crack a rib with that hug."

"That's what I said after the first one he gave me," Deeks said, smiling broadly. "He's not afraid to show you how he feels."

"Well, he certainly feels something for you," Kensi said, reaching up to toy with the hair at the back of his neck. "He's very protective of you."

"Weird, huh," Deeks said as he stepped closer to her. "He acts like a father to me, Kens, at least how I think a father is supposed to be and it surprises me every day. The ranch feels like a home and that's because of George. He's made me feel wanted and he doesn't take any shit from me, either. I can talk to him about the things that are bothering me, anything and he'll listen and give me advice, tell me if I screwed up or if I'm being too hard on myself. He means the world to me, Kens."

"I'm happy for you, Marty," Kensi said softly in his ear as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. "I remember you telling me how he helped you come to terms with things when you came here with Joe and after the hearings, but I didn't realize how close you two had become."

She saw his eyes turn toward George and she could see the depth of emotion the man stirred in him. The tension that had almost choked them both was gone and she breathed a sigh of relief at the change he'd undergone since coming here.

"I'm happy you're here, Kens," Deeks said. "There's so much I want to show you. Wait till you meet Sheila. She's beautiful."

"Don't forget about Boo," George said as he walked past them carrying two huge suitcases.

"Who's Boo?" Kensi asked, smiling broadly as she saw the laughter in Deeks' eyes.

"She's a yellow Lab puppy who is afraid of everything except water," Deeks smiled, wrapping his arm around Kensi's shoulder and pulling her close as he followed George out to the car.

...

...

She had been his partner for almost three years. She had seen him in all kinds of dangerous situations, taking down bad guys and dropping into aliases whenever one was needed. He was brave and good at his job. He was a wiseass who loved to give people, mainly her, silly nicknames. She knew he would die for her and for any member of their team, and almost had on a number of occasions. He loved to tease her and banter with her and make love to her. It was the Marty Deeks she had come to love deeply, but who still exasperated her at times. He was a complicated man who still kept secrets she needed to discover, a man who could thrill her physically or drive her mad on any given day. He made her laugh and he could make her cry with a simple, gentle kiss. She had watched him surf, his body almost one with the board, moving effortlessly across a wave, his body fluid and beautiful. This was the Marty Deeks she knew, not completely yet, but a man she loved and sought to learn more about every single day.

Now, seeing him in a totally different environment, she smiled softly to herself as she watched a man she had thought of as a city boy, through and through, walk out into a pasture in Wyoming and whistle for a horse. He looked so sexy in the jeans and denim shirt he wore, a battered, straw cowboy hat tilted back on his head of tousled golden hair, that she had to swallow hard and try to control her desire to tackle him to the ground and have her way with him right then in the grass. He kept glancing back at her with a wide-open smile on his face and she was suddenly so happy for him and the peace he had found here that her eyes misted briefly. He deserved this kind of happiness, she thought. If anyone deserved to find a place to call home, it was this man.

His whistle cut through the crisp, morning air and she saw a large horse look up from far off down the pasture beside a stand of birch trees, its burnished brown coat contrasting sharply against the white trunks and shimmering yellow leaves. The horse tossed its head several times before starting toward them. A second whistle caused the horse to prick its ears and move into a trot, it's head held high. Deeks walked back toward her as the horse approached, pulling a big carrot from his pocket and handing it to her.

"Sheila loves carrots," he said as the large horse slowed as it approached. The horse only seemed to have eyes for Deeks, placing its huge forehead against his chest. He stroked the horse's neck and she heard the animal almost groan with pleasure.

"I think I'm jealous, Deeks. This horse loves you," Kensi said with a laugh.

"What can I say, I'm a lovable guy," He answered as he stepped back. "Show her the carrot."

Kensi held out the treat and Sheila stepped toward her and blew out her breath before taking the carrot and contentedly chomping it up as she looked at Kensi with huge, soft brown eyes.

"Come on girl," Deeks said as he opened the gate. Sheila followed him to the barn, her nose just inches from his back. Kensi reached to take Deeks' hand and Sheila purposely stepped between them.

"Now who's jealous?" Kensi laughed in surprise.

"She hasn't seen me for awhile, so I guess she wants me all to herself," Deeks said as they reached the barn. Joe and Diane had just finished saddling their horses and mounted as they approached.

"We'll meet you two by the bend in the creek," Joe said as he and Diane guided their horses toward the open gate and headed out, quickly kicking their horses into a gallop, their laughter echoing behind them as Joe raced Diane for the creek.

"He looks like he was born on a horse," Deeks said, the admiration clear in his voice.

"He practically was," George said as he led a horse out of the barn. "I had him up in front of me when he was barely two. Josie wouldn't let me take him on a horse any earlier, afraid he'd fall off like Chris had."

"How old was Chris?" Deeks asked.

"Eighteen months," George answered with a sheepish grin. "I thought she was gonna shoot me."

"I would have," Kensi said.

"It turned out okay. Josie caught him," George laughed. "How'd we all meet such tough women, son?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Deeks said as he walked into the barn to saddle Sheila.

"Kensi, meet Scout," George said as he led an Appaloosa over to her. The horse had one blue eye and one brown eye and she took to him right away.

"He's beautiful, George," Kensi said as she stepped back to look over the colorful spotted horse.

"You ride?" George asked.

"My dad and I used to go on overnight camping trips on horseback in an area above Lake Arrowhead," she answered.

"Sounds pretty," George said. "Never been to California, but since both my boys live there, I think I might just come for a visit."

"You really think of him as a son, don't you?" Kensi said.

"I guess I kind of informally adopted him," George said quietly. "He was so messed up the first time he came here, so angry and full of hurt and guilt. I thought he needed someone to care for him like he deserved. I owed him for saving Joe's life, but then he just grew on me, and I couldn't help but love him. He didn't have much of a real father, but I'm pretty sure you know that. We have that in common. I can see a lot of myself in him."

"He'd take that as a great compliment, George," Kensi said.

"We going riding, or what?" Deeks said as he rode out of the barn on Sheila.

"She knows how to ride, son, so don't go trying to show off," George warned. "I have a feeling she could beat you in a race."

"Why am I not surprised?" Deeks laughed with a crooked grin. Then he kicked Sheila and whooped loudly as he charged out of the gate, his battered straw hat flying off behind him as he galloped toward the creek. Kensi quickly swung up into the saddle and reined Scout expertly around and kicked him into a gallop.

George stood watching them race out across the grassy field, smiling to see the grin on Deeks' face as he looked back to find Kensi gaining on him.

"You got your hands full with that one, son," George said out loud before turning back toward the house where Boo was confined and yelping for attention.

...

...

Kensi pulled her knees to her chest as she sat curled into the corner of the old couch, a soft Navajo blanket tucked around her feet. Deeks threw another log on the fire and she watched him stare intently into the rekindled flames, the familiar curve of his body silhouetted against the glow of the fire. He was resting his head on his forearm as he leaned on the weathered mantel and she could tell something was bothering him.

"Hey, partner, what's up?" she asked, patting the spot next to her on the couch. He turned to look briefly at her, but didn't join her, instead standing up tall with his back to the fire and staring out into the darkness of the room.

"You know what's weird? I have Granger to thank for me being here," He said softly, his eyes unreadable and dark.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her brow furrowing as her body tensed at the mention of that name.

"If Granger hadn't distrusted me and asked the FBI to loan him a team to track Lee Chao, I would never have met Joe," Deeks answered. "Don't you think it's weird that the man who threatened to kill me is the same person that caused me to meet a man like George Atwood? A man who's now more of a father to me than my own dad ever was?"

"Maybe it was just meant to be, Deeks," she said softly. "Don't give Granger too much credit. He doesn't deserve it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It just occurred to me for some reason," he said as he dropped down next to her on the couch, still staring into the soft flickering fire as it settled.

"He really does love you like a son, Marty," she said, reaching out for his hand. He turned toward her and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers as a smile spread slowly across his face. His eyes became a softer blue and she could tell by the way he was biting his lower lip that his memories had moved on to happier moments.

"I'm so lucky, Kens," Deeks said, reaching out to touch her hair and rub his thumb tenderly across her cheek.

"Maybe George is the lucky one," she said as she drew him close to her. Their foreheads touched and she could sense his quickening breath as her lips lightly brushed across his before she kissed him softly.

"I'm so sorry for being such a shit last week, Kens," he whispered as his hands moved to caress her cheeks before smothering her mouth with an all enveloping kiss that took her breath away. He pushed her back against the side of the couch as his hands began to explore her body and his kiss intensified. Her fingers were entangled in his hair and she responded to the heat of his strong body pressing against her. She slid down as he laid his body next to hers, the contention between them from the previous week forgotten.

"I missed you," he whispered as he pulled down on the sweat pants she was wearing.

"I can tell," she said before pushing him back to stare at him with dark, hungry eyes. "Do you know how sexy you look in denim?"

"Really? Tell me."

"Shut up," she said as she busied herself undoing the buttons on his shirt. She watched his eyes search her face as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and she smiled before placing a series of light, tantalizing kisses around the hollow of his throat and then down his chest.

"You seem to be having all the fun," he said as his hands moved up under the long sleeved tee shirt she wore, resting briefly on her breasts before lifting the shirt up and over her head, her breasts free for the taking. She looked up to see admiration and longing in his cloudy, grey blue eyes and she arched her back in invitation. His warm mouth closed over her right breast as his hand slipped her sweatpants down, his hand slowly stroking her thigh and ass before seeking the heat between her long legs. She couldn't stop the soft moaning the movement of his fingers coaxed from her. His touch was magical and she abandoned herself to him as the warmth of the room and the smoky smell of the fireplace created a fuzziness in her head, his tongue continuing to caress her nipple as his fingers moved in rhythm until she thought she would go mad.

"I want you," she whispered. "Now."

He laughed softly as she pushed his jeans down, desperately seeking what she needed and he couldn't deny her and didn't want to. They melded into each other and he watched the ecstasy on her face as they climaxed together, her name softly forming on his lips as he pressed them to hers. He rose up slightly and brushed a wet strand of hair from the flush on her cheeks, kissing her eyelids as her breathing evened out, her smile warming him in the soft glow from the dying fire.

"I love you," he said as he kissed her just beneath her ear and then down her long, sensuous neck. "I can't live without you, Kens."

She opened her eyes and looked at him and he wasn't sure what he saw there and it shook him.

"Why did we fight so much that last week?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" he asked in return. "Can't our love overcome a few arguments?"

"I don't know," she said shakily.

He sat up quickly, pulling his pants up as he went to stand once again in front of the fire.

"George said if our love is real, a few angry words wouldn't amount to a hill of beans," he said, laughing softly at the odd saying.

"Your words hurt me, Marty," she said as she came to stand behind him, her hands lightly touching the tense muscles of his back.

He turned to face her, afraid to touch her now as he saw the turmoil in her eyes.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said. "I was angry and you were there and I just lashed out without thinking. I'm sorry, Kensi. I was stupid. Please don't let my words come between us."

She stroked his bare chest and he trembled as he waited for her reply.

"What else did George say?" she asked.

"He said we need to say 'I love you' every night and every time we're going to be away from each other."

"Seems too simple," she said as her hand moved up to brush the hair out of his eyes.

"How about a simple question. Do you love me, Kens?"

"You know I do," she whispered and kissed him lightly.

"Then it shouldn't be hard to say every day," he said as he drew her into his chest.

"Those words are never hard to say to you," she said.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said. "Why didn't you just kick my ass?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Maybe I love you too much to do that anymore."

"Don't change too much for me, Kensi Blye," he laughed. "I like my tough partner."

"I thought you loved your tough partner," she said, her eyes shining in the dimming light of the room.

"Always," he said. "Remember that. Always."

...


	9. Chapter 9

**Vengeance: Chapter 9**

...

Kensi walked slowly out of the bathroom and saw that he had fallen asleep waiting for her and she paused to watch him for a moment. He was lying on his back and looked so peaceful she walked to her side of the bed as quietly as she could, not wanting to disturb him. His left arm was lying crooked above his head and the covers we're pushed down past his chest, haphazard and tangled and he seemed to be smiling as he slept. As she pulled the covers back to get in next to him she saw something move beneath the bedding and begin to crawl slowly up toward the pillows, causing her to stop. Boo's head popped out and stared at her, his black eyes keen, his nose twitching as he smelled her scent. She struggled to stifle a laugh at the sudden revelation that Deeks was sleeping with a dog. She hadn't spent a lot of time with the puppy yet and wasn't sure what to do about sharing a bed with the dog, so she tried to slide in under the covers before deciding. Boo instantly began barking as he stood resolutely on all fours between Kensi and Deeks.

"What the hell?" Deeks said, awakened by the insistent, high-pitched barks.

"Sorry, but your sleeping companion won't let me in the bed," Kensi said with a laugh. "I thought you said she was afraid of everything."

"Everything but water and you, apparently," Deeks said, laughing as he reached out and picked up the agitated pup, placing her on his chest and rubbing her ears. "You jealous, Boo Boo, or just protecting me from big, bad Kensi Blye?"

"I'm starting to get a little cold here, Sweet Cheeks," Kensi said, getting slightly annoyed. "So, make up your mind, me or the dog."

"She's mean, isn't she?" Deeks said. "You worried she's trying to steal me away from you, Little Boo? Not a chance, Wigglebutt. Not a chance."

"Really, Deeks?" Kensi said as she crawled into bed. "You'd rather sleep with a dog?"

As she got comfortable, she paused as she saw the slow grin start to spread. "Seriously, Deeks. Don't even go there or I swear I'm going back out to the couch."

"What? I didn't say anything," He laughed, placing the puppy at the foot of the bed before lying back down and pulling Kensi over on top of his chest.

"You don't have fleas, do you?" Kensi asked with a smile.

"You want to check?" Deeks laughed as she punched him.

"It's good to see you so relaxed," she said, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Kens, why are you really here?" His face suddenly quite serious.

"I'm one of the bridesmaids," she said as she pushed away from him and returned to her side of the bed. "I thought Diane might need a little help before the wedding."

"Kens, for an agent, you're really not a very good liar." Deeks propped his head up on his elbow and stared her down. "What happened?"

She looked steadily at him for quite awhile, until she dropped her head and reached for his hand.

"Did you know a man named Jackson Hightower?" she asked.

"Name sounds familiar," he answered as he sat up and propped a pillow behind his head. "I think he created designer drugs for Proczko. Is he dead?"

She noticed the resigned tone of his voice and she moved closer too him.

"Bates received a couple of photos of him. He'd been beaten and shot, just like the others," she said, never taking her eyes off of him.

"What was different?" He asked.

"One of the photos showed him being buried," she said. "Hetty was worried, so she sent me."

"She thinks Yavik knows about this ranch?" Deeks said, doubt shading his features as he shook his head. "No way, Kens. You guys are giving Yavik way too much credit."

"She didn't want to take any chances, Deeks. None of us do," she said, trying to make him understand. "Let us worry, okay? We just want to protect you."

"We're safe here, Kens," Deeks said as he reached for her. She nestled down onto his chest, comforted by the solid beat of his heart and the soft touch of his hand as he stroked her arm. She hadn't realized how much she wanted the threats against him to be over until coming here and seeing him so relaxed and happy. He seemed different here, more open and she was sorry she had spoiled that for him.

"Are you sorry I came?" she asked softly. "Did I bring it all back?"

"It's always in the back of my mind, Kens," he answered. "Proczko and Granger, both, but being here makes it seem more like a bad dream and not so threatening."

He lifted her chin up and smiled at her, then softly kissed her forehead and then her lips.

"Did it seem like I'm sorry you came after what happened on the couch in front of the fire?" His smile widened and his eyebrows rose as he asked the question.

She didn't answer, she simply wrapped her arms around him, pulling his body tightly to her and tucking her head up under his chin, listening to the soft sounds of him breathing. She felt a sudden chill as her mind recalled the images of the latest dead body and she couldn't help but picture his face and it scared her. He must have felt the change in her and began stroking her hair and shushing her as if she were a child.

"It's going to be okay, Kens," he whispered, his breath soft and warm in her hair. She clung to the words and to the comfort of his strong body until they finally slipped into sleep, while Boo snuggled against their feet at the foot of the bed.

...

...

Joe slapped him lightly on the shoulder as he struggled to move one of the hay bales into the circle they had created in the area in front of the barn. He looked up at his friend and saw the nervousness in his eyes and the quickness of his breathing and it made him laugh.

"Too late now, buddy," Deeks said. "The wedding's tomorrow and besides, your bride would shoot you if you bailed on her at this late date and Kensi would join her."

"I'm a tough FBI agent. Why is this scaring the crap out of me, man?" Joe laughed.

"Well, you're really not all that tough and because you will no longer have any control over your life," Deeks answered, his face bright with a boyish glee that had Joe shoving him backwards as he laughed.

"And how would you know, dumb-ass? You've never even been married," Joe said as he dropped down onto one of the hay bales.

"Undercover with Kensi taught me all I needed to know," Deeks said as he sat down across from his friend. "She took over the entire bed and most of the closets and the bathroom was a whole other story. Besides, man, you were married once before, so you know what it's like. How is this any different?"

"Diane doesn't take any crap from me, Marty," Joe said. "Abby was kind of shy and most of our married life was her taking care of me while I recovered from the wounds I got in Afghanistan."

"Seems like Di did that for you too," Deeks said softly. "Forget what bad shape you were in when you came here after the firefight on Lee Chao's ship?"

"You're right. I think that's when I realized she cared about me," Joe said as he gazed off toward the barn.

"And when you realized she was hot," Deeks said with a soft laugh. "Although I had to give you a nudge to open your eyes. Blind FBI agent needs help seeing what was right in front of him."

"Yeah, and man does she have magic hands," Joe said, an introspective smile on his lips.

"Too much information, dude," Deeks said as he got back to work.

"Kensi here for more than the wedding?" Joe asked as he helped pull the last bale into place.

"Yeah, protection detail," Deeks answered. "They got pics of another body."

"You two okay?" Joe asked.

"Diane isn't the only one with magic hands," Deeks said with a slow grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Way more than I wanted to know, brother," Joe said as he threw an arm across Deeks' shoulders and steered him toward the house.

"Beer?"

"Definitely, Beer," Joe said.

As they reached the porch, the door opened and Boo raced to greet them, followed by Kensi and Diane and a familiar face.

"Hetty," Deeks said, stopping briefly as he saw the warm grin on her face as George followed her out and handed her a glass of amber liquid.

"Hello, Mr. Deeks, Joe," Hetty said as she lifted her glass as a toast. "George is taking me to The Rustic Bar for dinner and I think we should make a party out of it."

"That's not the place with the mechanical bull is it Hetty?" Deeks asked as Joe handed him a beer. "I've heard stories."

"Don't believe everything Mr. Callen tells you," she said sharply.

"How is he?" Deeks asked tentatively.

"Recovering nicely, Mr. Deeks. He sends his regards and a warning," Hetty answered. "He doesn't want you to get too full of yourself, so he wants a rematch."

Deeks stood shaking his head, a soft smile briefly lighting his face.

"I'm gonna get my ass kicked, aren't I?" Deeks asked.

"I believe Mr. Hannah has been training him," Hetty replied. "Sam claims he doesn't want to be embarrassed by his partner a second time."

...

...

Joe and Diane were surprised to find many of their old friends waiting for them at The Rustic Bar and Joe quickly introduced Kensi, Deeks and Hetty, who waved to them all before retreating to a booth with George. Karaoke night was in full swing and after a few drinks, Joe and Marty took to the stage to sing "I Got Friends in Low Places", until the whole crowd was shouting out the chorus in raucous abandon.

"I didn't know that song was still popular?" Hetty said as she watched Deeks and Joe bow elaborately to the crowd as they exited the stage.

"Things tend to move kinda slow around here," George answered. "No reason to throw out a good song just because it's old."

"The same could be said for people," Hetty said as she signaled the waitress for another round.

"Somebody trying to throw you out, Hetty?" George asked. "Or you just thinking about blending into the woodwork?"

"I've spent my whole life blending into the woodwork, George," she laughed. "No, I have a lot to see through before I ride off into the sunset."

"Now, there's an old cliché," George laughed. "Wyoming bring that one out?"

"Must be all the horses and cowboy hats," Hetty said softly, a warm glint in her eyes. "You've certainly got our Mr. Deeks looking like a local."

"I think he's starting to like it here," George said.

"I haven't seen him this relaxed in a month," she said, her voice turning sober and her face serious. "He feels safe here and he needed that."

"Joe told me they found another body," George said somberly.

"No. All we have are photographs. The body was buried and hasn't been found," Hetty said. "Probably never will be."

"How about Granger?" He asked, his eyes sharp and piercing as he waited for an answer.

"He's a bit more elusive than I anticipated," Hetty said with a deep sigh. She leaned back and followed Deeks and Kensi as they danced, the worry suddenly plain for anyone to see, but she quickly hid it, not wanting to alarm the inquisitive man sitting across from her.

"I'm good with secrets too, Hetty," George said, his eyes never leaving her face. "You can trust me. I'd just like to know in case he comes here looking for him. Marty's one of mine now and I don't want anything to happen to him."

"He needs someone like you, George," Hetty said, resting her hand over his. "His real father still haunts him."

"I'm more worried about the living threats," George said. "What can you tell me?"

"The last sighting we had of a man we think is Granger was on a security camera at the airport in Cairo," Hetty began. "We believe he is using the name Jonathan Roark, at least for his bank account. He has enlisted the services of several men who operate in the less than savory world of espionage and the underworld. His new associates are vicious men and very good at what they do."

"How is he paying for these guys?" George asked.

"Very astute question, George," Hetty said as she quickly reassessed who was sitting in front of her. "We have been tracking his bank account and several very large sums have been deposited recently."

"Can you backtrack 'em?" George interrupted.

"You sound like a hunter, George," Hetty said with a savvy smile as he nodded. "He's selling secrets to anyone buying and he knows a lot of secrets. We're not the only agency after Owen Granger."

"So he can pretty much hire anyone he wants to do his dirty work," George dropped his head and stared at the table, obviously disquieted by the news.

"We'll find him, George," she said, patting his hand. "He's not ready to make a move just yet."

"But he is setting up an organization," George said, looking up at her with a dark look in his eyes she hadn't seen before.

"Yes, he is," Hetty said.

Hetty watched as George searched the room for Deeks, his face taking on a determined look when his eyes found him. She knew George was a tough man; one you didn't want to anger or cross. She had done her research on him and probably knew more about him than his own son. She wouldn't have let Deeks anywhere near him if she wasn't sure she could trust him. Now, she saw something the research couldn't tell her. She saw a man who would protect those he cared about without a second thought, a man who would put his life on the line for a young man he had known less than a year, but who now meant as much to him as his only son, and she took great comfort in that. She hoped Deeks realized the depth of this man's commitment to him.

They sat quietly together, watching the party and Hetty slowly let out her breath. She hadn't wanted to lie to George, and she didn't, but she couldn't reveal everything she knew either. Nell had been tracking all of the men she had caught on any security or video feed with Jonathan Roark and the latest hit had been on the man Wilhelm Jürgen had met in Northern Ireland. His name was Faolan Boyle and he was a tech genius, sought by many for his abilities as a hacker. Eric had heard of him and had felt challenged when Nell had told him he might be aligning with Granger. He was determined to track him and had already spent hours each night trying to find out what he was up to and two days ago he'd found him. He was seen on a security feed at a five star hotel called the Concorde El Salam in Cairo. He hadn't stayed long, just minutes in the bar, but left with a silver briefcase given to him by an unknown man and Eric began checking for his signature skills on every banking network in Cairo, the Middle East and Europe. When he found him, he traced a deposit for $250,000 into a bank account under his real name in Derry, Northern Ireland. When he alerted Nell, she found the same amount deducted from Jonathan Roark's account in Alexandria. By the time Hetty arrived up in Ops both accounts had disappeared and Eric nearly went mad trying to find them again. He was still looking.

Hetty and Nell and Callen had spent almost the entire day before she flew to Wyoming trying to figure out what Granger might be planning. Nell hadn't had a sighting of Wilhelm Jürgen, the former Stasi agent, in weeks, the last one being in a seedy section of Mexico City where he was spotted with known members of a notorious drug cartel. Callen was almost as frustrated as she was, but Nell had calmed both of them with her quiet professionalism and dogged determination. The two techs were going beyond the call of duty and when this was over she would make sure Mr. Deeks became aware of their sacrifices on his behalf.

"Hetty?" Deeks said softly, finally touching her lightly on the shoulder. "You okay? I called your name a couple of times. You seem a bit distracted. George make a move on you?"

"Son, you are out of line and will be mucking out stalls during the wedding tomorrow if you don't apologize," George said sharply, surprising Deeks with the coldness in his voice.

"Sorry, I was just joking," he said, bewildered by the depth of emotion his comment had generated.

"No need to apologize Mr. Deeks," Hetty said, smiling warmly. "George just hasn't discovered what a cheeky bastard you can be at times."

"Sorry, George, I didn't mean anything," Deeks said, giving them both the benefit of his childlike pout. "But, you two have been sneaking off together and I was just wondering what your intentions might be toward my boss?"

That got a laugh out of George and the tension between them broke.

"Hetty can do a lot better than me, son," George said, clapping Deeks heartily on the shoulder.

"I don't know about that, George," Hetty said as they moved toward the door. "You remind me a little of William Holden in The Revengers. Terrible, terrible movie. I was a seamstress on that film and had a rather large crush on Mr. Holden. Not that he noticed. You are much taller, of course, and just as good looking."

George blushed, causing Deeks and Joe to struggle to keep from laughing. Kensi punched Marty, her eyes flashing a warning, while Diane looked ready to throttle Joe as the group made their way outside. George walked up behind the two young men and wrapped an arm around each one, silencing their snickering.

"Tomorrow's a big day, Joe," George said. "And I couldn't be happier. I want you both to know how proud I am of you. That you will be standing up as his best man means the world to me, Marty. I love you both."

"Thanks, dad," Joe said easily, used to his father openly expressing his love, but the effect on Deeks was electrifying. He swallowed hard and seemed frozen in place, barely registering what was going on around him as he turned to look at George, his eyes misting and questioning. George looked back at him and pulled him into a smothering hug.

"You heard right, son," George whispered. "Better get used to it. I'll probably get musher the older I get."

...


	10. Chapter 10

**Vengeance: Chapter 10**

...

Deeks shivered as his bare feet touched the cold floor of the bedroom. The thick quiet of the room closed around him as he tiptoed around the bed, leaving Kensi snoring softly, buried under the mound of blankets he'd just thrown off. Pale light filtered through the windows, barely illuminating his path as he gathered his jeans from the chair, pulling them on before fumbling for a fresh pair of socks in the dresser. He grabbed his boots and a clean shirt and soundlessly opened the door. He heard Boo whine and looked back to see the puppy watching him from Kensi's side. The puppy's tail thumped slowly, but when he motioned for her to lie down and stay, she obeyed, finally yawning before putting her head back between her paws. He closed the door behind him, hoping the puppy would go back to sleep and not wake Kensi.

He felt himself holding his breath in the cold that cloaked the dark living room. There was a hint of warmth still radiating from the fireplace, so he quickly sat down in front of it and pulled on his socks and boots, before standing to put on the warm, plaid flannel shirt Joe had loaned him. He took a moment to look around the silent room. He would be leaving the next day and he had wanted this time alone to let the feeling of the ranch settle deep inside of him. The designs on the Navajo rugs that hung on the walls stood out from the early morning shadows and the delicate, colorful beading on the old Arapaho cradleboard that hung beside the fireplace reminded him of the family stories George had been telling him after dinner over the past week. All of the keepsakes George had shared with him felt familiar now, as if they were part of his own history and he wanted to remember them and what they meant to George. His mind reached out to touch once again the man's expression of love for him last night and it drew him to look inward, marveling at the strong emotions the simple words conjured up.

He walked quietly through the kitchen, taking down the thick woolen jacket from the peg next to the door, knowing he would be thankful for the warm fleece that lined it when he made his way outside. He stopped as he reached for the door knob, turning back to take a large carrot from a basket on the counter, stuffing it into his pocket to give to Sheila when he rousted her out of her warm stall. Stepping out onto the porch, he felt the icy nip in the air and quickly slipped into his coat before striding out toward the barn. The sky was hung with low, grey clouds and he hoped for Diane's sake that they moved out before the wedding began down by the creek that afternoon. Stuffing his hands into the coat pockets, he was surprised to discover a pair of gloves, happily pulling them on before opening the barn door. The pungent smell of hay with the distinct hint of manure immediately assaulted him, making him wrinkle his nose as he stepped inside. A few lights were on and George's big, buckskin quarter horse, Honcho, popped his head out over the stall door, the white blaze on his face standing out in the muted light as he snorted softly at him. He broke off a piece of Sheila's carrot and held it out to him, listening to the sounds of the other animals as they began to move around in their stalls. He laughed in quiet recognition as he heard Sheila's telltale nicker, looking over to see her tossing her head and watching him as he made his way to her door.

"Miss me?" He said, rubbing her soft dark nose as she sought the remaining portion of the carrot.

He lifted her halter off the hook and let her out of her stall, putting it on as she finished the carrot. He picked up his battered straw cowboy hat and shoved it down over his messy blond hair before saddling her quickly, not wanting anyone to come out and disturb him. He needed this private time to say goodbye and he didn't want to be distracted by conversation. Leading the big mare out to the pasture gate, he mounted and rode her through and after shoving the gate closed, he headed toward the stand of birch trees she favored. He let the horse go where she wanted as he took in the vast openness around him, taking pleasure in the sense of freedom it brought. A gusty wind rustled the dry, dying grasses in the field, and he pulled the fleece collar tightly around his throat as he glanced up once again at the threatening clouds. The sharp, piercing cry of a Red-tail Hawk caught his attention as it glided in circles above him, pleased with himself that he recalled what kind of hawk it was and remembering how frustrated he'd become when George had tried to teach him the difference between a Red-tail Hawk and a Red-shouldered Hawk. The man's patience was extraordinary.

Sheila stopped in amongst the birches and began grazing, the bright yellow leaves of the trees twirling in the wind as it swirled around them in the chilly grey light of dawn. The sun suddenly sliced across the field, bringing a sense of warmth that wasn't really there. Deeks dismounted and slumped down on the slightly damp clumps of tangled grass, resting his back against the soft white bark of one of the birches and letting his eyes wander over the scene before him. The barn sat solidly among the giant cottonwoods and he watched contentedly as the first wisps of smoke wafted up from the fieldstone chimney of the long, low ranch house and the distant sound of the dogs barking for their breakfast let him know people were up.

He'd never really thought of any particular house as home before, at least not one that didn't hold fear inside. He considered LA home in a general kind of way, and maybe his apartment, but he had always fantasized that a real home should be a place where your loved ones waited for you, a place you looked forward to returning to and for celebrating holidays and special occasions and when you needed comfort and understanding, a haven from the terrors the world threw at you. He'd never had that in his life, and maybe it was a childish thing to wish for, but here, in this wild place he had no business even knowing about; here he had found a home and a brother and a father and his throat constricted at that amazing realization and sudden tears clouded his eyes as he stared up at the turbulent grey clouds above him. How this had happened, he had no idea, he just wanted to sit here and savor the feeling of belonging to this place and to these people. He didn't want to move from this perfect place, a place where the fantasy in his head had become a reality and a welcomed comfort. He smiled as he saw George walking slowly out to the barn to feed the horses and his heart quickened in his chest at his good fortune to know such a man and have that man love him like a son.

"Get hold of yourself, Marty," he said out loud to himself and could not hold back the smile as he spoke. "I'm getting mushier than George."

His sudden laugh caused Sheila to take a step toward him and nuzzle his shoulder and that made him laugh even more.

"I'm a lucky man, Sheila," he said as he reached up to stroke her cheek, glad for the warmth she provided.

He sat quietly, letting the memories of his days here soak into his being until he saw George head back to the house. He saw him pause and look his way, somehow knowing just where he was, standing and watching for a moment before raising his hat in salute and then continuing on, knowing that he needed to be where he was and not questioning that need. That simple act of understanding touched him and he could feel his heart pulsing in his ears as he watched the door close behind the man he now treasured and he rose quickly to go spend as much time as he could with him before his life's work pulled him away. He stood and swung up onto Sheila's back and urged her forward, unable to keep a broad smile from lighting his face.

"Let's go home, girl."

...

...

"It's beautiful," Kensi said as she watched the final touches being made to the arbor by the creek. It was made from the trunks of young aspen trees, their bark bright against the backdrop of yellow willow bushes that lined the bank. Its cross beams were made from smaller branches with lime green and muted gold leaves still attached and the corners were decorated with hawk feathers and long strips of buckskin dotted with small silver jingle bells that sounded whenever a gust of wind came up. The rich smell of freshly sawn pine boards that completed the floor mixed with the smell of snow in the air and Kensi wrapped her coat tightly around her as she watched Deeks and Joe tack down a large Navajo rug George had pulled out from under one of the beds. When they finished, the two men came to stand beside her and she could feel their connection as Deeks gently squeezed Joe's shoulder as he shook his head.

"Diane's gonna freeze her butt off out here, Marty," Joe said and they laughed together.

"This was her idea, buddy," Deeks said. "Too late to set up in the barn now."

"I hope the pastor reads those vows fast," Joe said. "And I hope her wedding dress is warm enough, cause we might get some early snow."

They turned as George rode up with two other men, one about George's age and the other about their own age, with long black hair that flowed freely down his back. The younger man immediately jumped from his horse and tackled Joe in a hug, laughing and finally pushing him to the ground.

"It's about time you married, Cuz," the young man said as he helped Joe up.

"You should talk, Elan," Joe said with a laugh. "How many girls are still waiting for you to ask?"

"Don't have enough horses yet," Elan laughed.

"Marty and Kensi, this is Jim Littleshield, my cousin," George said as he nodded toward the older man sitting next to him on a beautiful sorrel horse with four white stocking feet and a star-shaped mark on its face.

"And this is Elan Hand, his nephew," Joe said.

Elan got quiet and looked toward his uncle before placing a hand on Deeks' shoulder.

"Our family thanks you for Joe's life," he spoke with such formality that he seemed like a totally different person than he was just a few short minutes ago.

"You are welcome in our home anytime," Jim Littleshield said. "George has made you family so that makes you a member of ours."

"I'm honored," Deeks said softly.

"You're gonna stand out, though," Elan said with a laugh. "Not too many blond Arapahos. You ride?"

"A little," Deeks answered.

"Sheila's in love with him," Kensi said with a smile.

"That big bay mare?" Jim Littleshield asked and George nodded. "She's a sweetheart and has good bloodlines. I have one of her colts."

"Jim and Elan work the Arapaho Ranch on the Wind River Reservation," George said. "Jim's the best horse breeder I know."

"Well, Joe, I was sent out here to get you," George said. "There's some wedding things you need to tend to and the ladies are waiting for you."

"I'll be right behind you dad," Joe said as the two older men turned their horses back toward the barn. Elan leaped easily into his saddle, swinging his black horse around and urging him into a full gallop, whooping loudly as he flew past the two older men, his long dark hair streaming out behind him.

"He's gorgeous," Kensi said, watching him as he jumped his horse over the fence and raced into the barn.

She turned to see Deeks with his eyebrows raised, trying to look hurt, but also trying to suppress a laugh.

"Most Arapaho are," Joe said. "They're warriors, too. Elan was in Afghanistan the same time I was there," Joe said. "He was an Army Ranger and managed to get home in one piece. He's a good man to have on your side in a fight, man. He made dad tell him all about you, Marty. They don't accept just anyone into their family. What Jim said to you was special."

"So you're part Arapaho, Joe?" Kensi asked.

"Yeah, my dad's grandmother was Arapaho," Joe said as a grin started. "That's why I'm so handsome."

"In your dreams, dude," Deeks said as they all mounted their horses to head back.

...

...

The sound of a softly pounded drum and a haunting melody from a wooden flute drifted over the wedding guests as they walked down to the creek. Deeks stood next to Joe as he nervously waited for the carriage bringing Diane from the house. A light snowfall had begun and Deeks was glad for the new cowboy hat George had given him and for the long tan woolen coat he now wore. Joe wore pale blue jeans and a white western shirt, covered only by a long buckskin jacket beaded with bird designs by one of his Arapaho cousins. The gathering was small and intimate, just a few close friends and family members and a few horses that some of the neighbors had ridden over. Deeks thought it was the most unusual wedding he'd ever been to and looked for Kensi sitting on one of the hay bales, locking eyes with her as she tucked a wool blanket around her legs. They smiled softly at each other until the jingling bells on the carriage horse caused them to look away.

The carriage, drawn by a white horse, stopped just at the end of the newly mown grass aisle. George stepped up to help Diane down, as her mom dealt with the flowing lace covered gown and the white brocade cape trimmed in rabbit fur that was keeping her warm. She wore a short veil, anchored by a spray of white lily-of-the-valley tucked into her swept-up red hair. There were a few chuckles by those close by at the brief glimpse of the white cowboy boots she wore, but in this weather it was practical and no one faulted her for expressing her tomboy side. She took her bouquet, a mix of white garden roses, winterberries and sprigs of cedar, from her mother and they both turned together to start down the grassy aisle. Diane paused and smiled as she caught Joe's eyes on her, his face a mix of joy and awe. People stood and clapped as she made her way to the arbor, flanked by her mother and by George. Her sister waited for her, taking the bouquet as she stepped up to Joe, who took her hands in his, both of them smiling as they turned to face their pastor.

The vows were spoken and the rings exchanged as the snow fell silently around them. Their first kiss as husband and wife was greeted by whoops from the men and the sound of jingle bells being shaken by two of her young nieces waiting to lead the way to the carriage. After Diane entered the carriage she stood and tossed her bouquet, causing Joe and all the men to laugh loudly when it was caught by his cousin, Elan Hand, who was roundly chastised by the women present for ruining the tradition.

"Joe looks so happy," Deeks said as he wrapped his arms around Kensi.

"She does too," Kensi answered.

"If we ever get married, this is where I want it to be," Deeks whispered in her ear.

"Deeks," Kensi's voice held a hint of warning and he could feel her tense in his arms. He felt his heart drop and he let her go and stepped away.

"I better go do best man things," he said hurriedly and walked to where he had tied Sheila, jumping into the saddle and turning her toward the house. He caught Hetty's shrewd look as he passed her, but forced himself to look away, knowing how perceptive she was. His emotions, so high during the wedding, we're now bruised by the obvious rebuke from Kensi. He wanted to kick himself for what he had let slip and he realized he should have known better. She loved him, he knew that, but a life long commitment was something she had been avoiding for some time. She liked the way things were and if that was all she could give him, he would accept it, but his heart still hurt and he couldn't deny that her reaction had saddened him.

The reception had been moved into the house and Deeks managed to avoid his partner, hanging out with Joe and Elan and the Arapaho side of the family, listening to stories about Joe as a wild teenager. He knew he was getting slightly drunk, and finally decided to step outside to clear his head.

He was amazed at the transformation the fallen snow had made to the landscape. There was a deep feeling of quiet that hung over everything. The cottonwoods' yellowing leaves looked muted against the whiteness around them, their trunks strong and masculine and stark. The weathered grey barn beckoned across the field of fresh, white snow that softened everything it covered and he walked out alone, listening to the squeaking sound his footsteps made as he made his way to it. When he entered, the familiar smell of hay and horses relaxed him and he paused, turning to look back at the house, now looking small in the vast field of snow. He hadn't spent much time in the snow, but the visual effects were stunning and cozy at the same time, the smell icy, with every sound muffled.

"Hey, Sheila," he called and the horse raised her head and stepped up to the door of her stall, stretching out her dark nose toward him. He buried his head in her neck and black mane and stood there trying to come to terms with what had happened.

"She give you any good advice yet?" George asked from behind.

"She doesn't talk much," he said, not really surprised by George's appearance.

"I believe that's a good thing," he answered. "She'd probably just babble on about carrots and wanting better feed."

That made them both laugh and Deeks turned around as George moved toward him, holding out a coat.

"Something bothering you, son?" George asked as he reached up and rubbed Sheila's ears while Deeks donned the jacket.

"That obvious?"

"To Hetty it was," he said, leaning his shoulder against the wall and looking over at him. "When I saw you come out here alone, I was pretty sure it had something to do with Kensi."

"I don't always know when to keep my mouth shut," he said.

"Think you need to be more like Sheila, then?" George asked with a laugh.

"Something like that, yeah." He walked back toward the barn door and stood staring up into the darkening clouds, the flakes of snow drifting gently down. He reached his hand out and watched as the flakes melted on his skin.

"It's beautiful, but gone in an instant," he said softly, feeling George standing behind him.

"Life is like that too, son," George said. "And so is love. Grab it and hold on to it for as long as you can."

"Life or love?" Deeks questioned.

"Both," George stepped closer until he was standing right behind his shoulder. "Don't pull away from her or you'll be sorry, Marty. Remember, love is patient."

"You just make that up?" Deeks asked, unable to stifle a soft laugh.

"It's in the Bible," George said as he put his arm around him. "You can look it up."

They headed back as the sounds of laughter floating out from the house and Deeks smiled, not surprised to hear that the tough old cowboy read scripture. It was comforting somehow to know that and it seemed to fit him. He wondered what else he would come to learn about the man over time, knowing he would be forever curious about him and determined to know more about his life and his philosophy. There were all kinds of love in the world and his love for Kensi was enduring, but out here, in the wide open plains of Wyoming, he had found a love he never expected; a father's love.

...


	11. Chapter 11

**Vengeance: Chapter 11**

...

Joe and Deeks stood side by side in front of the fireplace, the embers glowing among the white ashes of the dying fire. Diane had gone back to her mother's house to pack for the honeymoon and Kensi had gone with her, while George drove Hetty back to the hotel in Saratoga. All the wedding guests had left except for Jim Littleshield and Elan Hand, who were spending the night. Elan stepped between the two men and tossed another log on the fire and then a couple more, kneeling to stoke it until the flames flared, finally standing and draping his arms across both men's shoulders.

"Did he tell you where they're going on their honeymoon?" Elan asked with a grin.

"Santa Fe," Deeks replied with a questioning look as Elan's smile widened.

"Tell 'im, Joe," Elan said as he pushed his cousin, laughter in his voice.

"It wasn't my choice, man," Joe said, shoving his cousin back.

"Have you two always acted like you're twelve?" Deeks asked.

"You should talk, dumbass," Joe knelt down and began roughly poking at the renewed fire.

"Ten Thousand Waves," Elan drew out the name softly before laughing again. "It's a spa outside of Santa Fe, where they give you a kimono to wear to your massage. Kinda girly for an FBI agent don't you think Joe?"

"It's supposed to be relaxing, you shit," Joe said, standing and trying to look tough, but holding back a smile as he spoke.

"Joe might look kind of attractive in a kimono," Deeks' broad smile earned him a solid punch on the arm.

"With those skinny legs?" Elan laughed.

"Diane heard about it when she went to a massage therapist's conference in Santa Fe," Joe said as his two friends laughed. "She had her heart set on it for the honeymoon, so what could I say?"

"You are so whipped, buddy," Deeks said and went to the sideboard, pouring three glasses of Glenfiddich and handing them out. "To Joe, the man no longer in charge of his own life."

The three men touched glasses and turned back toward the fire.

"You better get going, Cuz. You don't want to piss off your new wife the first day," Elan said as he squeezed his cousin's shoulder.

"That kimono is calling, brother," Deeks said, pulling Joe into a quick hug. "You're a lucky man, Joe."

"Watch your back, Marty," Joe said, the easy smiles suddenly gone between them. "Don't go getting yourself killed while I'm on my honeymoon."

"I'll wait till you get back," Deeks said with a crooked grin.

"Don't joke like that, you dumbass," Joe said sharply.

"What's going on?" Elan sensed something and stood looking back and forth between the two men. "Are you in trouble, Marty?"

"Joe worries too much," Deeks said. "I can take care of myself, remember?"

"Bullshit," Joe almost shouted. "I remember you hanging in that cage with cattle prod burns all over your chest, so don't tell me that."

"Joe," Deeks said quietly. "I have good people watching out for me. Just go enjoy your honeymoon and I'll see you when you get back, okay man?"

"Yeah, sorry," Joe said, relaxing slightly, a flicker of embarrassment in the small smile that appeared briefly.

Joe gave Deeks a clap on the arm before heading back to his room to pick up his suitcase and was surprised to see Jim Littleshield standing silently in the shadows. They hugged briefly in passing and then silence hung over the room until Joe walked back in. The three men followed him out to the porch, trailed by the four dogs. Deeks bent down and picked up Boo, holding her under his arm as he waved goodbye to Joe as he drove off into the night. No one spoke until they could no longer see the lights of the car.

"You want to tell us what that was all about?" Elan said as they returned to house.

"Not really," Deeks felt uncomfortable as the two men stared at him. He put Boo down and watched as she cuddled up next to Stinker close by the fire.

"George mentioned you weren't used to family," Jim Littleshield said, the words softened by his distinctive way of speaking.

"And Joe told us you liked to talk, so why don't you?" Elan's voice was anything but soft.

"George didn't tell you anything?" Deeks faced the fire as he spoke, away from the searching eyes of the two Arapaho men.

"He told us how you saved Joe's life," Elan replied. "That's why you're family and that's why we want to know if you're in trouble. We take care of family."

Jim Littleshield silenced his nephew with a look before moving to stand behind Deeks.

"When I was seventeen, George and a few of us got in a fight with some bull riders in town for the rodeo," Jim's words seem to come from a distant place and Deeks braced his arms against the fireplace mantle, remembering the story George had told him the first day he met him.

"We were full of ourselves back then," he continued. "We thought no one could get the better of us, but we were wrong. I was wrong and so are you and you should know that. You and me both remember the pain a cattle prod can bring, but you're still full of yourself. You have come close to dying so many times you think you're blessed because you're still alive, but you're not. You have been alone too long with no one to talk to. You talk, but you don't hear. George is your father and we are your cousins. Listen to what we say and hear it. We are family now and we protect our own."

"Tell us what you can, Cuz," Elan said quietly. "And if trouble comes to you here, we'll fight by your side."

Deeks was stunned by their words. He turned back to look into their eyes and he saw truth and complete acceptance there. He sat down on the hearth and lowered his head and began to tell them about the threats made on his life. They asked no questions and the more he talked the calmer he became as he unburdened himself. His words hung in the air around him as he spoke of his fears about the harm that might come to those who put themselves in the line of fire to protect his life, and he heard Jim grunt softly at that. When he finished, he looked up and saw the two men looking at one another. They stood and he stood to face them, not sure what to do.

"You really know how to piss people off, Cuz," Elan said. "I'll stick around until you leave. My rifle will be close by if we need it and I assume you're armed, so if anything happens, look for me."

"I don't know what to say, except thanks," Deeks said. "And you're right, I'm not used to relying on family. Mine was never there for me. The closest family I've had up until now has been my team at NCIS. I've learned to depend on them, but I've been with them for three years. You just met me yesterday."

"George and I have been like brothers since we were little," Jim said. "When Chris was killed in the war, he was lost to himself for a while. He blamed himself. Then Joe enlisted right away and he was crazy with fear that he would lose him too. He rattled around this old place by himself, and he wasn't in a good place, drinkin' too much and letting things go with the livestock, so I came to stay with him until Joe came home. George needs family and you are a lot like him I think. You need family too, and now you have one. We may not be blood, but when you saved Joe's life, you saved George as well. He has taken you as his son and he doesn't want to lose you."

"I'd do anything for George," Deeks said earnestly. "I don't want him in the line of fire. I could never look Joe in the eye again if something happened to George because of me, and I couldn't live with that either. I'm leaving tomorrow and I'll be fine. I have back up in California and Kensi will be with me."

"How's she gonna help if you're attacked between here and there?" Elan scoffed.

Deeks' loud laugh startled the two men and they looked back at him in confusion.

"Kensi could probably take you in a fight, Elan," Deeks said. "And I know she can outshoot you."

"No way, Cuz," Elan looked incredulously at him as Jim Littleshield laughed softly and shook his head.

"Believe it, man," Deeks said.

The sound of a truck in the driveway ended their discussion as the dogs rose and began barking their greetings as they sniffed at the door, their tails wagging furiously. George and Kensi came in and Deeks saw the cautious look in her eyes as she glanced quickly at him. He smiled and raised his eyebrows and saw her curiosity return.

"Elan thinks he can outshoot you, Kens," Deeks smiled as he saw her eyes sharpen and widen as she looked over at Elan as he stood smugly by the fire.

"Well, our plane doesn't leave until two, so how about a little target shooting contest in the morning?" she smiled wickedly at Elan and Deeks saw his confidence waver ever so slightly.

"You're on, ma'am," Elan answered.

"Did he just call me ma'am?" Kensi's eyes widened, followed by a piercing look that froze Elan.

"Sorry," he said, somewhat disconcerted by her tough attitude.

"Call me Kensi," she told him.

"Or you can call her Wonder Woman like I do," Deeks wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to his side.

"She's a Federal agent, Elan," George laughed. "You may have just met your match."

"No way is a woman gonna outshoot me," he said, standing taller as the other three men laughed.

"Wanna bet?" Deeks asked.

"You're on, Cuz."

After wagers were laid down, Deeks and Kensi said their goodnights and headed for their room, leaving the three men talking quietly in front of the fading fire. Kensi closed the door behind them and leaned against it, her eyes coming to rest on her partner as he silently began to unbutton his shirt, his mind elsewhere. She didn't go to him, unsure of where they stood and afraid to breech the subject of the future again. She smiled as he removed his shirt and saw him shiver in the cool room, his lithe body tensing as he reached for a tee shirt. She moved quickly then, coming up beside him and reaching out her hand to stroke his arm as she placed her other hand on the suddenly taut muscles of his back. He turned to face her, his face tender, but uncertain, the tee shirt hanging forgotten in his hand as their eyes searched each other's faces. She moved closer, her hand moving to stroke his bare chest as the other toyed with the curled hair at the base of his neck. His eyes were placid as he waited to see what she would do, his arms unmoving by his side.

"Hold me," she said softly as her arms went around his neck and pulled him against her.

He did as she asked, wrapping his strong arms around her and gently resting his face against her cheek. She felt him let his breath out as her lips teased the base of his neck and then following the line of his shoulder. His hand moved up into her hair and she could feel his warm breath in her ear and it made her quiver.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I want you," she replied as she pulled back to look at him.

"Just for sex?" he asked with no hint of a smile.

"What? Why would you say that?" She stepped away from him, her body rigid with anger.

"Isn't that all were doing? Having fun in bed and then watching each others back at work while we flirt?" He walked past her and pulled on the tee shirt before going into the bathroom and shutting the door.

"Don't do this," she said.

He opened the bathroom door and stood staring at her and she could see the turmoil in his eyes.

"I love you, Kens," his voice sounding suddenly defeated. "If all you want is sex, I can do that. I'm good at it and if that makes you happy then count me in, just don't tease me about more than that and then yank it away because you're too scared to make a commitment."

She was too stunned to comment as he stood bracing himself against the doorframe.

"I met George and Joe's Arapaho cousins just yesterday," he said quietly. "And for some reason they welcomed me into their family and offered to fight by my side if I needed them. I've known them for less than two days, but they made a commitment to me. I've known you for three years, Kens. I've loved you for almost that long and I thought you loved me, but you're still holding back and I'm tired of trying to understand why."

Then he turned back and shut the door, leaving her standing there with tears in her eyes, unable to move.

...

...

He rose early, the cold darkness still heavy on the room. He dressed quickly, picking up Boo as he moved toward the door. He paused to stare down at Kensi bundled tightly on her side, not splayed across the bed as she usually was. He blamed himself for that, knowing she had not touched him at all during the night. His regret at telling her his true feelings tugged at him, but he couldn't take the words back now and wasn't sure he wanted to. He closed the door behind him and hugged the wiggling dog, welcoming her warm body and the solace of unconditional love.

He was surprised to smell freshly brewed coffee as he neared the kitchen, having expected to be the first one up at this hour. He found George and Jim Littleshield talking softly over steaming cups of black coffee, and he was glad for the company, placing Boo on the floor as he sat down to join them. He was still amazed at how comfortable he felt when George was around and Jim gave him the same feeling. Enjoying their camaraderie reminded him of the times he'd spent with his grandfather as a little boy. Those visits had provided the only escape from some of the more difficult times of his childhood, but that hadn't lasted long, his father refusing to let him and his mom visit, for some reason, after he turned eight. His grandfather died when he was nine and he wasn't allowed to go to the funeral.

"Sheila's gonna miss you, son," George said. "So don't stay away too long or she might pine away."

"Maybe you should breed her again, George," Jim said. "I got a beautiful Bay stallion she might take to. A foal might keep her mind off Marty here."

"Nothing like a little sex to take your mind off things," Deeks said rather harshly, causing both men to look at him sharply.

"You didn't resolve things, did you?" George asked.

"I'm pretty sure I made it worse," he said, getting up to pour himself a mug of coffee before looking sheepishly over at George.

"You aren't letting George give you advice about women are you?" Jim asked with a light laugh.

"Why do you say that?" Deeks grinned and perked up at the inference.

"Did you meet Kate Lovejoy?" Jim asked as George grumbled something unintelligible into his own coffee.

"The lady that bred Boo?" Deeks' smile widened, earning him a grumpy look from George.

"She's given George so many hints he could practically trip over them if he weren't so dense or just plain stubborn," Jim said with snorting laugh.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Littleshield," George got up to refill his coffee and found Kensi staring at him, wrapped in an old robe she found in the closet.

"I smelled the coffee," she said, glancing uncertainly at Deeks as George poured her a cup.

"George has a girlfriend, Kens," Deeks said easily, keeping his voice light and teasing. She knew instantly that he was roll playing and decided to go along.

"I'm not surprised. You're very handsome, George," she said as she took the seat next to Deeks, glad that she didn't have to look into his eyes. "Any woman would be lucky to have you."

"Well, she wants him, that's plain to see," Jim said, smiling at his cousin's discomfort.

"But what does she want him for, is the question," Deeks teased.

"Watch yourself, boy," George said, glaring at him. "I can probably kick your butt if I have to."

"I'd be happy to help, George," Kensi said as she rose from her chair. "He needs a good kick in the ass once in awhile." Her eyes flashed at her partner, which the cousins picked up on, turning to see what Deeks' response would be.

"She loves my ass," Deeks said, a lecherous grin on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Actually, I can take it or leave it," she said flippantly. "Personally, I think it's overrated, kind of like it's owner."

"Ouch, Miss Blye, you wound me," Deeks put his hand over his heart like he'd just been shot and smiled broadly, making Kensi's eyes narrow at his playfulness, knowing he was just trying to get under her skin.

"You better watch out during our little shooting contest this morning," Kensi said as she started to walk back toward their room. "I wouldn't want to make a mistake and shoot you in that smart little ass of yours."

"Oh, I think you would like nothing more, Agent Blye," Deeks said, his smile gone as they stared at each other.

She turned and left and Deeks looked back to see two men with large questioning eyes staring back at him.

"Did she just threaten to shoot you?" Jim asked.

"It isn't the first time," His laugh not entirely convincing.

"Do you two always go at it like this?" George asked.

"Yeah. It's our thing," he answered with a short laugh as he got up and grabbed his jacket off the peg and headed out the door.

"Those two got it bad," Jim Littleshield said.

"Yeah, they just don't know what to do with it," George replied.

...

...

Deeks had set up two hay bales down by the creek, each topped with a row of seven jingle bells. George and Jim would keep count of the number of bells each shooter managed to hit and the first person to successfully hit fourteen would be declared the winner. Deeks watched as Kensi familiarized herself with the rifle George had loaned her. She was completely engrossed in the contest, never looking at him once as she went to stand at the fifty-yard mark for the first series. Elan looked very confident and Deeks hid a smile, knowing what was coming for the poor man.

"Ladies first," Elan graciously offered.

Kensi stepped to the mark and fired rapidly, hitting each bell in turn, the pinging sound from the hits echoing along the creek.

"Your turn," Kensi said with a swaggering, smart-ass smile.

Elan Hand was a former Army Ranger and he had no problem hitting his targets, turning to Kensi with a broad smile when he finished. The second round would take place from one hundred yards and both George and Jim shook their heads, not thinking it was possible to hit the tiny bells from that distance. Deeks set up the targets and smiled at George as he came to stand next to him.

"She that good, son?" George asked.

"Oh yeah. I trust her with my life," he answered.

"What about with your heart?" George asked, causing Deeks to flinch and give the man a warning look.

"She's the one who's afraid," he said as Kensi stepped to the line.

The sharp crack of the rifle was followed each time by the ping of a jingle bell as it flew into the air, leaving the hay bale bare. She had hit every one and even at this distance the men could see the change in Elan's body language. He managed to hit five out of the final seven, and looked dejected as he walked back alongside Kensi.

"She doesn't seem to be scared of anything," Jim said as they approached.

"Except committing to me," he said softly.

George nodded at him with understanding as the two shooters approached.

"You were right, Marty," Elan said, resting the rifle on his shoulder. "She is that good."

"Thank you," Kensi said with a wide smile.

"You watch over him then," Elan said. "If anyone comes for him, you take them out, Kensi."

"You know about the threats," she said, sobering as she looked over at Deeks.

"I'll be fine, buddy," Deeks said. "Kensi will have my back all the way home."

"And after that?" Jim Littleshield asked.

"After that I've got my other family," Deeks said. "A Navy SEAL, a hard ass Federal agent who never sleeps, two geek wizards and Hetty and nobody messes with her."

...


	12. Chapter 12

**Vengeance: Chapter 12**

...

Callen couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something different going on between Kensi and Deeks. They still bantered, but the comments were more pointed and sometimes hurtful and they weren't flirting with each other, and that definitely caught his attention. They had been back less than a week, but the tension between them was evident to most of the team. He had caught Sam staring at Deeks after one sharp comment to Kensi, especially when she made no retort and spent the next half hour sulking, not speaking to anyone. Even Eric noticed the difference, and he wasn't very adept at reading people. Then he'd spoken to Nell about it, but she was spending so much time trying to track down Granger she was completely unaware of any change in the two and she rather grumpily suggested he stay out of it.

"Hetty, what the hell happened in Wyoming?" Callen asked, walking up to her desk as she was having her afternoon tea.

"You'll have to be more specific, Mr. Callen," she answered. "It was quite an eventful few days. George promised to send me the photographs and I will be happy to share them with you."

"Hetty, don't tell me you haven't noticed something isn't right with Kensi and Deeks?" Callen was getting frustrated as she continued to stir her tea.

"I think what's going on is a private matter, Mr. Callen, and has not affected the team as far as I can tell," she finally answered. "Mr. Deeks won't be going out with the team on our new case, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"What new case," he asked just as Eric's whistle split the air.

"That one, Mr. Callen," she smiled at his sly look back as he followed Sam and Kensi upstairs.

"Mr. Deeks, a moment, please," she called out to him.

He seemed downhearted as he made his way slowly to her desk, his cheerful openness, so evident in Wyoming, was missing since he'd returned to LA. She knew what had happened between the partners there from talking with George before she left. The man was very intuitive about people, especially Deeks, and his insight was the reason she had told Callen to back off.

"I had a call from Lieutenant Bates and he wants to meet with you," Hetty said as he slumped down in one of her chairs. "He has a lead on how Proczko found out your friend Dimitri Kondos was an undercover officer."

"I should get over there," Deeks said, quickly rising to his feet, his eyes sharp and determined.

"No, Mr. Deeks," Hetty told him firmly. "I've given Lieutenant Bates the address of your safe house and he will meet you there at eight o'clock tonight. Kensi won't be there, in case you're concerned about that. She will be going on an undercover operation with the team tonight, so you'll have the house to yourself. One of the tactical team will drive you."

"Thanks Hetty," he said hesitantly. "Is the op dangerous? For Kensi, I mean?"

"She will have Sam and Callen close by, Mr. Deeks," she told him. "Don't worry. They'll watch out for her."

"I know. I just wish you'd let me back her up," he said.

"As soon as we find Yavik Proczko you can," Hetty said. "But until then, your presence would put the entire team in danger."

"Understood."

As Deeks got up to leave, he saw Kensi go into wardrobe and he quickly followed her. She was standing in front of the mirror holding a very short, sexy dress up in front of her and when she saw him her eyes went dark.

"What, Deeks?" The words came out clipped and he could tell she was still annoyed with him.

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier," he said quietly, his eyes taking in the nature of the dresses she was selecting.

"Fine, you've apologized. Now if you'll excuse me I'm trying to get into my alias," Kensi said as she took a slinky, silver dress into the dressing room.

"What's your part in the op?" Deeks couldn't help but ask.

"I'm going to seduce a drug dealer," her voice floated out from behind the curtain. "I'm good at it."

Deeks didn't fail to notice she'd thrown his own words back at him and a little anger was added to his concern.

"And I think I'm going to enjoy it," she said cockily as she came out looking unbelievable in the tight, slithery dress. "It should be easy. No strings, just teasing and having fun."

"Kens," Deeks was almost ready to explode at how flippant she was being about this assignment.

"What? Don't think I can do it?" Kensi stepped up close to him with her hands on her hips, daring him to say something.

"Yeah, Kens, you're good at it as long as he doesn't want something more than sex," Deeks turned abruptly and strode out, grabbing his jacket as he headed for the door.

"You okay Kensi?" Sam asked, the two agents having heard the heated exchange.

"I'm fine. Deeks is the one with the problem." She moved seductively toward Callen, flashing him a sexy look and he shot a worried look at Sam.

"Kensi, this isn't a game, so get your head in this op and off of your little tiff with Deeks or I'll use someone else," Callen was furious at what he'd just witnessed and he was determined to force them both to deal with whatever was going on when they came in tomorrow. He didn't want to have to split them up, but he would if he had to, no matter what Hetty said.

...

...

It took him almost and hour to calm down once he got back to the safe house. The tactical team agent who'd driven him had stayed in the car and told him he would watch the house until Lieutenant Bates got there and had simply laughed when Deeks suggested he would be fine on his own until then. The agent only had to mention Hetty's name for Deeks to realize his request had been anticipated. So, he had rattled around the house, doing some laundry and then trying to read, but his last words to Kensi still troubled him and he couldn't concentrate. He finally just made himself a salad and cut up some of the leftover chicken they'd had the day before and tried to focus on Lieutenant Bates' visit. That worked for a while, but Kensi wasn't far from his thoughts, the image of her in that silver, tight fitting dress intruding on his ability to think clearly. He was suddenly angry with himself for making that parting comment, knowing that going undercover, even with backup, was dangerous and something that required a clear mind with no distractions and he was afraid his harsh words might interfere with her concentration, possibly putting her in danger.

"You stupid sonofabitch," he said out loud, wanting to call her, but knowing it was too late and that she would already be into the op by now. So, he texted an apology telling her he would make up for his stupidity by buying dinner tomorrow night at the restaurant of her choice, even though he knew it would have to be take out. If he happened to wake up when she came in, he intended to tell her just how much he still loved her and that he was all right with whatever kind of relationship she wanted. He remembered what George had told him about being patient and saying "I love you" every day, so he wrote it on a small note and taped it to the bathroom mirror for her to find when she came in.

The sudden knock at the door startled him and he reached for his gun, checking his watch before moving quietly to the front door.

"Deeks?" Bates called softly.

"Yeah," Deeks quickly pulled the door open and let the lieutenant in, waving to the agent across the street, letting him know he could leave.

"Want anything, Lieutenant?" Deeks asked as he followed him into the living room.

"How about a good night's sleep?" Bates answered.

"Can't help you there, man. Not getting much myself," Deeks dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs and looked expectantly at his former boss.

"You remember Sonny Watts?" Bates began.

"Not much, but I remember Dimitri went undercover with him a couple of times," Deeks leaned forward, his heart racing at the connection. "Does he know how Proczko made Dimitri as a cop?

"He called me this morning and said he had information, but he wouldn't tell me over the phone," Bates stood up and seemed antsy. "He wants us to meet him out by the airport tonight."

"He wants to meet me, too?" Deeks was surprised. "How does he know I'm involved?"

"He said Dimitri talked a lot about you and told him you were a good friend," Bates answered. "Sonny thought you would want to know what happened."

Deeks knew he should call Hetty and let her know that he was going out with Bates, but he also didn't want her to tell him he couldn't go. He needed to do something and he was with Bates so he had back up and he felt that this might be the breakthrough they needed. He was tired of all the babysitting and not being able to contribute, so he stood and gathered his things, nodding at Bates as he headed toward the door.

The drive to the airport gave Bates a chance to fill him in on Sonny Watts, telling how he had been an undercover cop for almost five years with a good arrest record and several commendations. Bates had reservations about him, but Deeks knew he had those about almost everyone he worked with. Bates didn't trust people easily, so his less than glowing opinion of the cop didn't surprise Deeks. He was pretty sure the lieutenant held a similar opinion about him.

"What kinda ops were his specialty?" Deeks asked.

"Most of them were drug related," Bates said. "Dimitri's reports said Sonny had close contacts inside several of the cartels, but he was never made during an op."

"You think those contacts might have given him inside info on Proczko?" Deeks wondered.

"We're about to find out," Bates pulled off the 405 freeway on the backside of the airport just as a huge plane roared over them. The sound was deafening and Deeks put his hands over his ears, a wide grin lighting his face.

The streets were deserted as they turned into the alley behind an old garage heavily tagged with graffiti. The roll-up door was up, and Bates drove inside, noting the other cars and trucks parked off to the side. As soon as he cut the engine, a small light was turned on over a beat up metal desk in the far corner.

"Hey Lieutenant," Sonny said, his eyes flicking quickly between the two men as they approached him. He seemed quite reserved to Deeks, his movements controlled and his body coiled as if ready for anything. He had seen the same thing in many undercover cops and he knew this guy was the real deal.

"Sonny, this is Deeks," the lieutenant said as they walked into the pool of light that illuminated the top of the gray desk.

"Guessed that one, Bates," Sonny's face broke briefly into a tight smile as he nodded at Deeks.

Deeks said nothing in reply, taking in his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The desk sat in front of a large window that looked into the front office, which was shielded by old, rather dirty blinds. The door to that office was closed and Deeks quickly noted the metal door to his right with a sign indicating it was a storage room. The walls were lined with workbenches covered in tools and auto parts, suggesting it was still a functioning garage. Finally he turned back to the light-skinned black man in front of him and waited to hear what he had to say.

"Tell us what you got, Watts," Bates said softly.

"This morning I got this email from Yavik Proczko," Watts said, stepping back to let Deeks and Bates get closer to the laptop. As they leaned over it they saw the photo of Dimitri lying dead on a pile of freshly dug earth. Deeks stood up straight and took a deep breath, his hands on his hips. He felt Watts move behind him and turned slightly, his question never asked as Watts slammed a gun down on the side of his head, sending him crashing unconscious to the floor.

"What the hell?" Bates stumbled back and reached for his weapon but Watts already had his gun pointed at him and he was forced to leave it in its holster.

"Sorry, Bates," Sonny said as he pulled the trigger. Bates hit the edge of the desk before collapsing face down onto the floor, blood pooling under him. Sonny reached down and felt for a pulse before turning and kneeling down beside Deeks, pulling his hands behind him and securing his wrists tightly with plastic cuffs.

"You hit him pretty hard," a man said as he walked out of the storage room. "His head's bleeding."

"What the fuck does it matter," Watts said as he motioned for the man to help him drag Deeks to the dark blue panel truck parked in the shadows of the garage. They lifted Deeks up, dropping his upper body face down onto the dirty floor of the truck. The man hopped easily up inside and dragged Deeks forward until his legs could be tucked inside.

"Don't you feel bad about this? He's one of your own," the man said with a smile as he turned to stare curiously at the cop.

"I'm leavin' town so I needed the money," Watts said tersely as he turned to walk back toward his own car. He'd almost reached it when a bullet took off the side of his head and he fell unseeing and unknowing to the hard concrete floor.

The man laughed softly to himself and walked to the back of his truck, pulling out a syringe and uncapping it. He calmly injected the contents into a vein in Deeks' leg and patted him gently before closing the doors.

"You won't be any trouble now, friend," the man said as he got in the driver's seat. He exited the garage and drove slowly down the alley, headed for the on-ramp to the 405. He turned up the sound on the radio and hummed along, a smile still on his face.

...

...

She read his text message a little before eleven that night standing in an empty parking garage in Culver City, just after wrapping up their op with an arrest. She could feel her mood lift as she read his brief apology and offer to buy dinner, telling her it could be anything but Twinkies. She had carried her anger at him for too long, she decided and smiled softly as she reread it. She would still make him pay for his last comment to her, but after that she wanted things back to normal. She missed flirting with him, among other things.

"Kens!" Callen was running toward her and she could see the panic in his eyes even from a distance. She felt cold all of a sudden and wrapped Sam's jacket more closely around her shoulders as a surge of adrenalin flooded through her. She held herself rigid as he stopped in front of her, his hand tightly gripping the phone in his hand.

"Lieutenant Bates has been shot," Callen breathed out. "Deeks was with him."

"Is he okay? Where is he?" Her voice came out sounding strangled as she struggled to contain her fear.

"Nobody knows," he answered, his eyes red-rimmed and his jaw clenching as he spoke.

Sam's Challenger roared up next to them and she stood numbly as Callen climbed into the back, allowing her to slip easily into the passenger seat, her short silver dress riding high up and unnoticed on her thighs. Sam didn't say anything as he gunned the car out of the brightly lit parking lot and out into the dark streets of the city.

"What the hell was he doing out with Bates?" Sam finally asked loudly as he sped up onto the freeway, pushing the Challenger way past the speed limit.

"Hetty said Bates had information from an undercover cop about Deeks friend Dimitri," Callen said. "But Bates was supposed to meet with Deeks at the safe house. I don't know what they were doing in a garage out by the airport."

Kensi said nothing. She was struggling to hold herself in check, to not lose control, but she was shivering, just from the effort. She didn't want to think about the possibilities, so she reread his text message, clinging to it as if it offered some hope, but deep down knowing that it didn't. Dread was slowly seeping into her mind and even though she fought it, it settled in and she felt as if she were drowning.

"Tell me this isn't happening, Sam," she whispered. "Tell me he's okay. Tell me he's asleep in the safe house. Please Sam."

Sam reached out to her, putting his warm hand over hers as she clung to the phone in her lap, but he didn't speak and that scared her even more and she felt tears beginning to build as her chest tightened. No one spoke after that, each one lost in their own thoughts.

When Sam pulled into the alley behind the garage it was choked with patrol cars flashing blue lights and a Coroner's wagon. A uniformed police officer stopped them just outside the crime tape. Sam and Callen showed their badges, but when Kensi failed to produce hers the man looked at the short, sexy dress and made a remark to the wrong people at the wrong time.

"Hey, you Feds should know better than to bring your girlfriend to a crime scene," he said with a short laugh that died in his throat as Sam pinned him hard against the wall in a second.

"She's a Federal agent, and you're out of line and real close to not being able to speak for a week," Sam's face was so close to the cop's he only had to whisper to make himself heard. "Now who's in charge?"

"Captain Spears," the cop managed, although he was finding it hard to breathe as Sam continued to grip his throat.

After that, no one went anywhere near them as they made their way inside the garage, which was now brightly lit. Kensi stopped when she saw the covered body in the corner, dark blood coagulating at the edges of the drop cloth.

"His name's Sonny Watts," a large man with gray hair said as he came up with his hand extended toward Callen. "He was an undercover officer until somebody shot half his head off. Bates told me they had agreed to meet here about the Proczko case. I'm Captain Spears."

"So Bates is awake and talking?" Callen asked.

"We got an officer down call about an hour ago," Spears said as he led them back toward the desk in the far corner. "Then Bates called me on his cell and told me Watts had shot him and that Deeks was missing. Deeks had come with him to the meet, but Watts knocked him out and then turned the gun on the lieutenant and shot him."

"Then who shot Watts?" Sam asked, sending a calculating look at his partner.

"Somebody who doesn't want any loose ends," Callen replied coldly.

"Proczko," Kensi said sadly. "Proczko has him and he's going to kill him just like all the others."

"Kens, we don't know that for sure," Sam said, noticing how badly she was shaking.

Callen didn't say anything; he just walked over to the laptop and asked if anyone had looked through it. When the captain said no, Callen called Eric.

"Eric, an email was sent to this computer. I need to know where it originated," Callen said rapidly. "Now, Eric. It may be where they took Deeks."

"I'm on it," Eric said, his voice cracking slightly at the end.

Callen waited as Eric searched, his eyes locking with Kensi's as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"I've got it," Eric practically yelled. "It came from Torrance. The address is on your phones."

The team raced for the car, cops moving quickly out of their way, as Callen continued to yell instructions to Eric to send a tactical squad to the same address and a forensic team to the garage. Sam raced for the freeway, weaving through what little traffic there was after midnight and hitting the on-ramp doing ninety. It had already been three hours since Deeks had been taken and they all knew what would happen to him if they got there too late.

...


	13. Chapter 13

**Vengeance: Chapter 13**

...

Deeks struggles with the deep aching pain and tries for another breath before the men begin to hit him again. His eyes strain to make them out in the cold darkness of the claustrophobic room and he wonders if Proczko is watching. He didn't recognize any of the men when he woke up the first time, when there was at least some dull light from the headlights of the panel truck. Now everything is black and he only knows they are close, by the smell of their sweat as they move in to do more damage to his body. He can't feel his hands anymore. They're tied above his head with course rope that has rubbed his wrists raw. His mouth is tightly gagged and that makes breathing difficult. He can't move his legs and realizes they are probably tied down to something heavy on the floor. He can feel the men all around him in the dark. He thinks there are three of them and he tenses as the smell of rancid garlic fills his nose. This one is vicious and he tries to prepare himself but the blows come too fast and the garlic eater always hits low. The other two don't strike him this time and that confuses him, but he is grateful.

When the men take a rest, his mind wanders and deep sadness envelopes him, but it's tempered by the anger he can only direct at himself. He made a stupid mistake and it will cost him his life and ruin Kensi's life as well. He wonders how long it will be before they discover he's been taken and he knows they'll all be angry with him and he can't blame them. He wants to believe they will come in time to save him, but he knows it's a long shot, so for now he concentrates on absorbing the blows when they come and tries not to think about death and what it will feel like.

He senses a presence moving close to him in the clammy darkness and he steadies his breathing, trying to hear. The soft touch of a smooth hand on his bare chest startles him and he shivers as the hand moves slowly over his skin and up toward his throat, finally closing loosely over it. Then a voice speaks close by his ear and the smell of cigarettes stings his nose.

"Darkness hides many things, don't you agree, Detective Deeks?" the man says softly, his voice heavily accented. "It can be ominous and adds to the fear you are feeling right now."

The man's hand moves slowly up his arm and begins to stroke it several times before grasping a handful of his hair and softly laughing. He can feel the man's breath on his face and he tries to pull away, but the man holds his head rigid and he can't move and begins to panic, his heart racing as the man's other hand moves over his ribs and down his side. Suddenly, the man's thumb presses down hard into one of his cracked ribs and the excruciating pain causes him to cry out, his scream muffled by the rough gag and that elicits a pleased grunt from his tormentor.

"You are mine now, you worthless little nothing," he says, his voice floating in the darkness. "The darkness is closing around you and you are totally alone. I am the only one you will hear and the only one you will feel."

He flinches as the man's hand begins to unbuckle his belt and he squirms as it is pulled off, holding his breath, unsure of what is coming. Then his hair is released and the man steps back further into the blackness. He smells the leather as the man's heavily wrapped fist strikes him and his left eye explodes in pain. Before he can recover, he is backhanded across the other cheek and warm blood begins to flow freely down his jaw. His mind dims as the assault continues until all he hears is a soft laugh as his head is lifted.

"We have just begun, my friend," the man whispers, gently stroking his chest before his fingers search once again along his ribcage.

...

...

A light sprinkling of rain continued to fall as Sam killed the lights on the Challenger before parking down the street from the address Eric had sent them. The neighborhood was seedy and the houses small, most of them dark, except for a couple, including the address they were silently approaching. The gate in the low chain link fence that surrounded the white house, hung open and the agents slipped quietly through, careful not to touch it, fearing the chain link would make a noise and alert whoever was inside. The front room of the house was lit up, and Callen peered inside, but saw no one. He motioned for Sam to take the back, but they all froze as a couple of neighborhood dogs began to bark. Callen snuck another peek inside, but again the room remained empty. Sam nodded and moved around the side of the house, while Kensi positioned herself beside the front door.

"In position," Sam's voice finally came through the comms.

"See anything, Sam?" Kensi asked.

"Light on in one bedroom, but curtains are drawn," he whispered back. "I have no visual. I repeat, no visual."

"On three," Callen answered, nodding to Kensi, who immediately tried the front door, nodding quickly as it opened.

On his count, the three agents burst into the house, yelling out who they were, but got no response. The house remained silent and Callen caught Kensi's wide eyes as she made her way toward the kitchen. He swiftly cleared the living room and saw nothing but a few scattered magazines on the floor.

"G," Sam's voice was quiet and Callen stopped, looking quickly at Kensi, who came out of the kitchen mouthing the word "clear".

"What is it, Sam?" Callen asked.

"Small office in the back," Sam's voice unnerved him as he headed down the hall.

They found Sam standing over the body of a man slumped in a desk chair, dead from a gunshot that had entered under his chin and blown off the top of his head. Blood splattered the wall behind him and the pistol was lying in the dark blood that had pooled around the wheels of the chair.

"It's Yavik Proczko," Sam said, holding out his phone showing the man's mug shot.

"This didn't happen very long ago," Kensi said, her voice breathy.

Callen looked at her to see how she was holding up, but she avoided his eyes, reaching instead for the keyboard of the open laptop on the desk. She hit a couple of keys and the computer flashed awake, a short typed message centered on the screen.

"Read it, Kens," Callen said.

"I have nothing left. I have taken vengeance on everyone who ruined my life and now there is nothing left for me. He took everything from me and now I have taken everything from him...Yavik Proczko"

"What does he mean, Callen," Kensi's voice sounded hollow in the small room.

Sam took her arm and pulled her away from the desk and she stepped back unsteadily, before ripping her arm away, moving purposely back to the laptop and hiding the message on the screen. A page showing a series of thumbnail images appeared beneath it and she began frantically clicking on each one until Sam took hold of her shoulders and pulled her away.

"I'll do it, Kens," Callen said.

The sound of falling rain drummed against the roof, filling the deathly silence of the room as Callen turned the laptop toward him so Kensi couldn't see the screen, methodically enlarging each familiar photo until he reached the final two. All of the others they had seen before, so he paused and swallowed hard, looking quickly up at Sam and Kensi before reluctantly opening the last two.

The first photograph showed Deeks' badly beaten body lying on a pile of earth, one arm flung limply across his chest. His face was bloody and bruised, his hair wild and dirty and his clothes torn and streaked with blood and mud. Callen closed his eyes and fought for control. He heard Kensi suck in her breath and he looked solemnly at her, seeing the fear in her eyes before glancing at Sam, resignation evident on his face. Callen steeled himself and enlarged the last image, closing his eyes as soon as he saw the picture. The only part of Deeks' body still visible above the dirt of the shallow grave was one hand and the side of his bloody face, most of it covered by his tangled blond hair. Callen slammed the cover of the laptop down and turned to the wall, unable to control the sudden anger and sorrow that filled him.

"G?" Sam called softly.

"He's gone, Sam," Callen's voice broke and he gathered himself. "We're too late."

"No!" Kensi said firmly. "You're wrong, Callen. It's not him. It can't be."

"Kensi," Callen shook his head as he looked back at the angry woman fighting for control and he saw her eyes suddenly fill with tears as she sank to her knees, her hands grasping at the edge of the desk.

"Mr. Callen?" Hetty's voice came softly through their comms, reminding them that everyone in Ops had been listening. "Can you confirm with certainty that the photo's are of Mr. Deeks?"

"Yes Hetty," Callen replied.

"Send the photo's to Eric, Mr. Callen," her voice distant, wavering slightly as she spoke.

"Tactical squad is outside," Eric said, choking on his words.

The squad took over the crime scene, the leader noticing immediately that the three agents appeared to be in shock and unable to move. He assigned a man to each one to make sure they got out of the house, but Sam wouldn't allow anyone to come near Kensi. He had her wrapped tightly in his arms and walked her into the living room and sat her on the couch. Her tears had dried on her cheeks and now her eyes stared blankly at nothing at all, her fingers picking absently at the straps on her vest.

"You okay, Sam?" Callen asked, his eyes red-rimmed and weary.

"Are you?" Sam replied, his angry voice loud in the small room.

The two men stared numbly at each other, neither one having to answer the other one's question.

"Come on, Kens. We don't need to be here," Sam said as he pulled her to her feet and walked her out of the house into the rain.

No one spoke as they drove through the wet streets and up onto the freeway. Callen kept looking back at Kensi and noticed the clinched jaw of his partner, but no words would form in his mouth, his mind unable to comprehend what he knew was now true. He had failed one of his team and it had cost him his life. That knowledge sat like a rock in his gut and there was nothing he could do, no one he could beat up or shoot to alleviate the devastating feeling of loss and mounting guilt. The man responsible was dead by his own hand and that left him bereft of any way to assuage his guilt and dull his growing anger. When he closed his eyes all he saw was the haunting image of Deeks' bloody face in that muddy grave, not the face of the young man whose crooked grin followed every one-liner or smart remark he thrown at them all on a regular basis. He roughly wiped his face, looking down as his hand began to shake and he was surprised by the tears that clung to his fingers. He looked over at Sam and saw him blinking back the tears that stood in his eyes, but still, there were no words.

Kensi's voice finally broke the silence as she asked them to stop by the safe house so she could gather her things. Sam asked if she was sure she wanted to go there right now, but she was adamant, her voice strong and angry. So, Sam drove over there, but wouldn't let her go in alone no matter how much she protested, both men following her in and waiting quietly as she went back into the bedroom.

Kensi walked slowly around the bed, stopping when she saw one of Deeks' tee shirts barely hanging off the edge where he had casually tossed it. She touched it and then gathered it to her chest, smelling his scent and a hint of the beach as she buried her face in it. She held it tightly as her heart pulsed in her ears and she struggled not to cry. She wanted to be angry right now. Angry with his murderer, angry with Callen and Hetty and Bates and she wanted to be angry with him for going out without her.

"Why did you do that, Deeks?" she said aloud, her voice harsh in her own ears.

She stopped herself and began to pack her things, hurrying because she wasn't sure how long she could keep herself from falling apart. She didn't look at his side of the closet, afraid of the memories already and it had only been an hour since she'd found out she'd lost him. She crammed everything in her go bag and then rushed into the bathroom, wanting to get out of there before she exploded.

The small note taped to the mirror immediately caught her attention and she stopped, her hand trembling as her fingers reached out to pull it free. She saw his handwriting and read the words and then she screamed. Sam and Callen found her collapsed on the floor, sobbing into Deeks old blue LAPD tee shirt. Sam sank down beside her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and rocking her as she sobbed Deeks' name over and over.

Callen left them there, unable to deal with her raw pain, walking quickly into the kitchen and drawing a glass of water. His breath was coming in great gasps now and he hoped the water would help the ever-growing tightness in his chest. His hands were shaking so badly he set the glass down and steadied himself on the counter, before letting his eyes wander around the room, searching for anything that might distract him from the anguish he was experiencing. His eyes came to rest on a couple of photos held to the refrigerator door by a magnet in the shape of a surfboard. One was a picture someone had taken of Kensi and Deeks at the beach, his arm draped casually over her shoulder and a brilliant smile on his face, his shaggy hair blowing wildly in the wind. The other must have been taken in Wyoming and he pulled it free and stared at as his eyes blurred. Deeks was standing next to a huge horse with a battered straw cowboy hat tilted back on his head. The hand of the gray-haired man next to him rested easily on the back of Deeks' neck and they smiled happily at the camera. Callen had never met George Atwood, but he knew about him and he thought for the first time about Joe and wondered who was going to tell him that the man he had grown so close to was buried in some unmarked grave they might never find. He picked up the unfinished glass of water and threw it violently into the living room where it shattered a mirror over the couch. He slid slowly down to the floor and put his head in his hands and let the tears fall.

...

...

Hetty stood before his desk and absently moved unfinished reports from one side to the other and then back again. Callen had just called from the safe house and told her what happened when Kensi found the note from Deeks and asked if Nell might be able to stay with her at her house. He didn't think she should be alone and Hetty had agreed. Nell was handling the news rather well and she was surprised by that and pleased that at least one of them was in control of their emotions. Eric had lost his battle when the photos of Deeks' body had appeared on his computer. He'd run from the room and Nell had found him in the men's room, crying quietly, his arms wrapped around himself. She had driven him home on her way to Kensi's house.

Hetty knew she should go home herself since it was almost three in the morning, but she needed to call George Atwood and she thought she would handle that better if she were at her desk. She wasn't looking forward to it, because she knew it would crush the man, but he deserved to learn it from her, first hand, in case he had questions. She would let him tell Joe.

She walked back to her office and made herself a strong cup of tea, and sat at her desk, looking over at the bullpen as she slowly drank it. Things would never be the same now. She knew that and a deep sorrow almost overwhelmed her as she recalled the first time she had seen him by that jail cell and introduced him to Sam. He had seemed so young back then, cocky and funny and slightly uncomfortable around the team, but that hadn't lasted long, except maybe with Sam. She thought he had always held a deep respect for Sam and a healthy fear as well, even though the two had become close. She wasn't sure how either of the senior agents would react to losing him, knowing that they were both experts at keeping their emotions in check, at least most of the time.

"Hetty?" Callen called softly as he walked into the Mission.

She could see that he'd been crying and it surprised her, but she said nothing, afraid her own emotions would get the better of her.

"How are you, Mr. Callen?" she asked as she poured him a cup of tea.

He dropped into the chair in front of her and looked solemnly at the cup of tea she offered.

"Got anything stronger?" he asked, knowing she did.

She poured them both a glass of scotch from her special bottle of Grange and held her glass up, offering a silent toast to the vibrant young man they had lost. No words came and none were needed, not tonight. He was gone and there was nothing left to do but mourn his passing.

...


	14. Chapter 14

**Vengeance: Chapter 14**

...

Elan Hand took a deep breath as he saw Joe rushing toward him through the throng of people just getting off the plane. He could see the deep concern on his face and he was glad he had come.

"How is he?" Joe asked breathlessly. "What happened? He wouldn't tell me anything over the phone, just told me to come home. I'm scared to death here, Elan. What the hell is going on? Is my Dad sick?"

"Slow down, Cuz. Uncle Jim is with him. Did Diane come with you?" Elan said as he scanned the terminal.

"No. She's still in Santa Fe," Joe answered nervously. "She wanted to come, but her new job starts Monday and she needs to fly back to LA tonight."

Elan wrapped his arm around his cousin and walked him out.

"Elan, tell me, or I swear I'll kick your butt," Joe yelled in his face as he shoved him hard against the door of the truck.

"Not here, Joe," Elan said softly. "Not here. Now shut up and get in the truck."

Elan drove silently out of the airport and turned off onto an isolated dirt road, finally parking on top of a ridge that looked out over the grasslands. He turned off the key and got out of the truck and Joe followed. He stood with his head down for a minute and then turned to face his increasingly agitated cousin.

"Marty was killed early this morning in LA," he said softly.

"What? No."

Joe stared blankly at his cousin for several seconds and then hit him as hard as he could, knocking him to the ground. Elan knelt on the ground and spit out some blood before rising to stand in front of Joe, who hit him again. This time he stayed down, sitting on the ground and silently watching Joe try to come to terms with the loss of another brother. Joe began to walk in circles, his hands clenched into tight fists held rigidly by his side.

"That stupid sonofabitch!" Joe yelled. "I told him not to do that. But, that stupid dumb-ass didn't listen. No. He went and got himself killed while I was on my honeymoon. You never listen, Deeks, you dumb shit. You stupid dumb fuck. Why did you do that?"

Elan watched silently as Joe ranted, shouting out his terrible rage and walking in circles, cursing a man he loved like a brother until he collapsed to his knees. Elan got up then and went to the truck, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out from under the seat. He walked over and set it down next to his cousin and returned to sit on the tailgate, watching for Joe to finally noticed it was there. He picked up the bottle and walked back to where Elan was sitting and hopped up next to him, taking a long drink before passing it to his cousin.

"You could get in trouble for giving whiskey to an indian, Cuz," Elan joked quietly and slung his arm over his shoulder.

"Shut up, Elan," Joe said, taking the bottle back and drinking deeply again.

"You're not gonna hit me again are you?" Elan asked. "'Cause I'm hittin' back next time."

"Marty hit me like that the first day we met. It hurt like hell, not that I ever let him know that," Joe said as he stared down at the rocky ground. "I liked him from the very beginning. He was smart, good at his job and funny as hell. He was a real wiseass, just like Chris."

"And he saved your ass a couple of times," Elan said.

"Yeah, there's that too." Joe said and threw the bottle of whiskey as far as he could as tears streaked his face. The two men sat side by side, staring out at the billowing grasses and a thunderstorm moving along the horizon.

"How's Dad taking it?" Joe finally asked.

"He's in bad shape, Joe," Elan said. "Uncle Jim called me this morning to tell me he was going over there. Said your dad sounded bad when he called to tell him about Marty. I went by on my way to the airport and he was in the barn, sitting in Sheila's stall. Uncle Jim says he hasn't spoken since he got there. Said he was just like he was when Chris was killed."

"Let's go," Joe said, jumping down.

"You got yourself under control now?" Elan asked, not moving from the tailgate.

"Not really, but Dad needs me, man," Joe saw the doubt in his cousin's eyes and he walked back to stand next to him.

"I won't do what I did when Chris was killed. I promise." Joe looked Elan solemnly in the face and got a nod of acceptance.

"Okay, but remember how bad your dad got last time, so be prepared," Elan told him as he started the truck.

When they drove up to the ranch, the three dogs didn't even move from the porch. The whole place seemed cloaked in sadness and Joe quickly went inside, searching for his dad, but finding only his cousin, Jim Littleshield, washing up a few dishes.

"He's in the barn, Joe," his cousin said.

"Has he said anything?" Joe asked.

"Not a word since his phone call this morning," he answered as he came over and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry Joe. I know how much he meant to you."

Joe brushed the sudden tears away and hurried out the door of the kitchen and walked quickly to the barn. The wind was whipping up and he could feel its cold sting as it dried the tears on his face. He welcomed the comforting warmth of the barn and stopped just inside, listening for his father. When he heard nothing, he walked slowly to Sheila's stall and looked inside. George was sitting in the back corner with Boo under his arm and Sheila's head was pressed against his chest.

"Dad?" Joe called softly as he entered the stall, causing Sheila to raise her head and move away. The puppy wiggled free and Joe picked her up and put her out. He turned back toward his father and stumbled, putting his hand out to catch himself before collapsing to his knees. Tears blurred his eyes again and as much as he wanted to comfort his father, he was unable to as an image of Deeks racing Sheila toward the creek filled his mind and he found he couldn't move. He felt his father's strong hands grip his shoulders and lift him to his feet and he clung to him as he was wrapped in one of his father's signature hugs.

"I got you son," George whispered.

"I want to punch him, Dad," Joe choked out. "I want to pound him into the ground and ask him how he could be so stupid."

"No you don't son," George said, hugging him even tighter.

"Why did he have to get himself killed?" Joe asked as he pushed his father away and tried to hold onto his anger.

"We had him for a little while, son," George said. "And we were all better for it. He found a home and a family here, you got to have a brother again and I..."

George turned away and threw his arm over Sheila's neck and Joe moved up behind him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"He was so broken when he got here," George said as he stroked the horse's back. "Maybe he had been for a long time and just didn't let anyone see it. Remember how scared he was to get up on Sheila the first time? I wanted to laugh at him so bad, but I knew it would hurt him if I did. He was tough, but he carried so much pain inside I just wanted him to know he deserved to be loved. He didn't know that, Joe. I just hope he realized it before he died. I hope he knew we loved him for who he was."

The two men clung to each other, both draped over a horse that would forever remind them of the man they had lost.

...

...

Nell looked sideways at the bullpen as she passed it on her way to Ops. No one was there, but she couldn't help but glance at Deeks' desk, some small part of her still hoping he would be sitting there come Monday morning. She knew those kind of empty thoughts did her no good, but she still hadn't come to terms with last night's tragedy. She had stayed with Kensi until daybreak and then driven her over to her mother's house, grateful she had someone to comfort her and who might be able to get her to talk about her pain. She had called Eric on her way back home to see if he needed company, but he had brusquely told her he was going surfing and hung up. That was when she decided to come into Ops. She needed to concentrate on something other than what had happened and she sincerely hoped work would do that for her.

She dropped down into her chair in the empty Ops center, glad there was no one else around, especially Hetty. She had watched her after they'd heard Callen over the comms say there was no hope, that they were too late to save Deeks, he was gone. Hetty would have collapsed if Eric hadn't jumped up to support her and help her sit down in one of the chairs. She had eventually gotten control of herself, but not before she had turned away from them, wiping away tears she didn't want them to see. That had shaken them both. Nell had never seen emotion get the better of her boss. Hetty's actions had surprised her even more when the photos came in. Eric had bolted almost immediately, but Hetty had stared at them for some time before picking up a nearby tablet and sailing it across the room, walking out and cursing vehemently under her breath as she went.

Nell was pulled back from her memories when a warning beep sounded on her computer, reminding her she had unopened alerts to process. She took a deep breath and started going through them. She was still tracking Wilhelm Jürgen and dutifully opened the latest alert, even though there was no point now that Deeks was dead. She would catalogue it anyway and send it on to Director Vance along with all the other intel she had gathered on Granger. This latest hit was a long shot anyway, as it showed a group of four men entering a hanger at a small airport in Chula Vista. The place name sounded familiar to her and she made a mental note to check the reference later. All she had now was blurry footage of the men as they walked toward a small jet, one of whom looked vaguely like Jürgen, while the others looked Hispanic. She filed it all away and stood to her feet, realizing how tired she was and that her body was buzzing from lack of sleep. She headed back down the stairs and caught herself at the bottom, gripping the railing hard as her emotions finally caught up with her. She would miss him, especially his easygoing nature and his laughing smile. They would all miss that.

...

...

"Kensi? Where are you going?" Julia tied her robe around her as she came down the stairs from her bedroom.

Kensi paused at the open door, trying to decide whether to lie or simply tell the truth. Either way, she wasn't going to be stopped, so she turned to face her mother.

"I'm going to Deeks' apartment." Kensi's tone of voice left no room for argument and her mother sat down on the stairs and held out her hand to her angry daughter. She looked as if she were dressed for battle. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and she was dressed in black jeans and a black sweater, her black coat cinched tightly at the waist.

"Let me make you some coffee first, honey," her mother pleaded, finally dropping her hand into her lap.

"I'll grab something on the way," she said as she turned back toward the door.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No!" Kensi trembled slightly as the word exploded out of her mouth. She grasped the side of the door and held on to it until she could regain her control.

"No. I have to do this alone," she said in a normal voice.

"You don't have to, you know," her mother said sadly. "I'm here now. Talk to me, sweetheart. You've hardly said a word since you got here. I know you're devastated, so just talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling."

"You sound like Deeks," Kensi said, cracking a brief smile.

Her mother waited as she saw her daughter hesitate between running from her and confiding in her. Kensi kept a firm grip on the door as tears gathered in her eyes and she wiped them away with trembling fingers and then glared at them.

"I'm so angry with him, Mom," she said harshly. "He should have called one of us. He should have called me."

"Do you know why he didn't?" Julia asked. "That's not like him, is it?"

"We were all out on an operation, but he should have called Hetty," Kensi's voice got louder as she spoke.

"So, he went alone," Julia said softly.

"No. He was with Lieutenant Bates, his old boss at LAPD," Kensi was becoming exasperated at her mother's comments and her frustration was growing as she tried to explain why she was so angry with him.

"Kensi, he's innocent," Julia said softly.

"What?" Kensi frowned as she turned toward her mother. "What did you say?"

"He didn't mean to leave you Kensi," she said as she got up and walked down to stand in front of her daughter. "You have to forgive him."

"No I don't!" Kensi shouted at her and then bolted from the house.

Julia let her own tears go then, crying softly for her daughter and for the man she loved. She tried to think of who to call, who her daughter might listen to and help her through this. She wiped her years and walked into the kitchen and called Hetty Lange.

"How is she, Julia?" Hetty asked without a greeting.

"Very angry," Julia answered. "She's on her way to Marty's apartment and I don't think she should be there alone, even though she wants to be."

"I'll take care of her, Julia," Hetty said quietly.

She met Sam and Callen at the base of the stairs to Deeks' apartment. None of them wanted to be there today, but Kensi needed them and they couldn't let her go it alone, so without a word to one another they climbed up to find the door wide open. Monty was cowering in the kitchen as Kensi screamed out her angry sorrow in the bedroom. Callen stared into Sam's eyes and saw a deep pain there. They hadn't talked about what had happened yet and Kensi wasn't giving them time to even process that Deeks was dead and was buried where they had little hope of finding him. Callen watched Hetty go into the bedroom before turning to Sam.

"You okay?" he asked his partner.

"You asked me that last night," Sam said as he went into the kitchen to comfort Monty.

"You never answered," Callen said. "Are you mad at him too?"

Sam picked up Monty and carried him to the couch and sat down, stroking the dog as he fought the tears that threatened to escape.

"No, I'm not mad at him. He had Bates for backup, so he thought he would be safe," Sam said softly. "He should have called Hetty, but she might not have sent anyone else, knowing Bates was with him. It was a set-up, G, and a good one. The guy was LAPD. They both trusted him and it got Deeks killed."

"Yeah," Callen heard a whimper behind him and turned to see Kensi and Hetty standing in the doorway.

Kensi was holding Deeks light gray sweatshirt and staring at Sam. Her face was red and her eyes puffy from crying.

"Don't say that, Sam," Kensi whispered and then began to babble. "Maybe Callen was wrong. Maybe it wasn't really him. The photos could be fakes. Callen, Hetty...they could be fakes and we should be out trying to find him."

"Kensi, you have to let him go," Hetty said as Kensi slid down the wall to the floor, Deeks sweatshirt clutched in her fists.

"No I don't. I can't...He can't be dead, I need him," she whimpered.

Callen couldn't deal with her denial and walked out onto the balcony outside, almost losing his own emotional battle. Sam got up and went to sit by her, reaching out to wipe her tears with his thumb.

"You had good times together, Kens," Sam said, moving to pulled her into his chest. She curled up against him and he could feel her shaking. "Remember those. Cherish what you had together. He'd want you to do that."

"We never made up." She sounded broken and Sam tightened his hug. "He died thinking I was still mad at him, that I didn't want to be with him, but I did Sam, I did. I wanted to be with him forever, but I never told him."

"Don't you think he knew that, Kensi?" Hetty asked. "He was worried about you being on that op without him. He would never stop loving you or worrying about you. You know that, just as he knew you would never stop loving him."

She began to sob then and Monty came to poke his nose under her chin, making her cry even more and pull the scraggly dog into her arms.

...

...

He was shocked into consciousness as a stream of ice cold water hit him. He groaned deeply and fought against it, but his aching body and the drugs they'd injected made it too hard to move. He tried to figure out where he was, but it was still dark and he couldn't see anything but the wet concrete he was lying on. He looked up to see a large, tattooed man hosing him down and he started to shiver as the freezing water soaked into his filthy jeans and doused what was left of his shirt, leaving it clinging to his battered body. He struggled to rise but someone behind him kicked him hard in the ribs and he screamed in agony, rolling onto his back unable to stop the steady stream of cold water as it hit the tender bruises on his face.

"Have to wash the mud off. Don't want you getting my truck all dirty," a man laughed as he stood looking down at him. "The blood was bad enough."

The water finally stopped, but by then he was shivering uncontrollably and coughing up blood and water, sending bright shards of pain throughout his body. Two men came out of the darkness and shoved him onto his stomach and he cried out as they roughly pulled his arms back, bent his legs and hog-tied his wrists to his bare ankles. He was barely conscious now, the pain almost unendurable as they dragged him along the concrete. Finally they lifted him up between them and threw him into the back of a blue panel truck. He passed out, only waking when he felt ropes being tightened around his legs and over his back.

"Bet you wish I'd shoot you up again, huh?" the laughing man said as he secured his body to the floor. "Boss didn't want that, but I'm being nice, tying you down, otherwise you'd roll around back here and that would really hurt."

"Fuck you," Deeks gasped out.

The man stopped laughing, then hit him hard on the temple before shoving a gag in his mouth and tightening the rope around his neck that held his face firmly against the cold metal floor of the truck.

"I'm not the one who's fucked, asshole," the man said and then laughed as he walked around and got in the driver's seat, pulling out onto the deserted street in the middle of the new housing development under construction in Santa Ana. The rain began to come down harder and he hummed along to the music as he drove up onto I-5 and headed south toward Chula Vista.

...


	15. Chapter 15

**Vengeance: Chapter 15**

...

The hanger doors slid open for the blue panel truck and the laughing man parked close to the waiting jet and jumped out to let the men there take possession of his prisoner. He hummed as he untied the ropes keeping the beaten man tight to the floor, noticing that though he was unconscious, he was shivering. His clothes were still damp, even after the long drive and his skin was hot when he brushed against him. The laughing man finished and looked back to see the man who had hired him standing at the door and he did not look pleased. The foreigner scared him. There was just something about the way the man looked at him with those penetrating gray eyes that made him tread lightly whenever he was around. It was like looking into the eyes of a master predator, ghostlike, cold, his hands always moving and touching the men around him, proprietary in a way that gave the laughing man a chill.

"Who said you were to secure him to the floor?" The foreigner asked.

"I just didn't want him to roll around in the back, is all," the man replied, his laughter gone.

"I did," the man said brusquely as he motioned for his men to get the prisoner.

A man smelling strongly of garlic shoved him out of the way and dragged the unconscious man roughly out of the back of the truck and let him fall onto the concrete floor, eliciting a deep moan from the prisoner. The foreigner smiled and grunted at the sound, kneeling and running his hands over the muscles of the prisoner's arm down to his wrists, which were bleeding again, pulling down hard on the ropes that bound him. When that got no response his hand dropped onto the man's lower back which was covered in dark purple bruises and pressed his thumb down deeply at the base of his spine and the prisoner jolted awake and screamed, pushing out the gag and gasping for air.

"Good, you are awake," the foreigner smiled and looked up at the garlic eater. The two of them grabbed the prisoner's arms and pulled him up onto his knees, his head lolling on his chest until the garlic eater pulled it up so he was eye level with the boss. The foreigner gently stroked the hollow of his throat as the prisoner flinched back from his touch, his eyes fluttering open and now wary.

"I have been given permission to do whatever I want to you, my friend, except kill you." He smiled as his hand moved slowly down the prisoner's bare chest, brushing aside the shredded pieces of the tattered shirt that clung damply to his body.

"By who, Proczko?" Deeks asked, barely above a whisper.

"Oh no my friend, he was just the means to an end and he's dead now." The foreigner's gray eyes continually roamed over Deeks' body as if searching for something and then he smiled.

"Then who?" Deeks eyes widened as comprehension began to set in.

"By a man who claims you destroyed his life." he answered.

"Granger," Deeks closed his eyes and sagged against the man holding him up and the foreigner slapped his face lightly, causing him to open his eyes again.

"What do you want, asshole," Deeks growled.

"Ah, you do have spirit," the foreigner said. "And I have been paid to break that spirit and I will, my friend, I will. You are nothing to me, just an entertaining diversion from my solitary life. I don't even like Mr. Roark, as he is now known, but I so enjoy all that money and making you suffer, of course."

"Who are you?" Deeks asked as he stared into the man's deadly looking eyes.

"Call me Jürgen," he replied, reaching out to run his hand along the top of Deeks' shoulder.

"I'd rather call you a prick," Deeks managed a brief smile before his head was jerked back hard.

"You have a filthy mouth," Jürgen said disgustedly as he stood up. "Your new existence will be far from here and I think we will come to know one another quite well and you will learn not to call me names."

Jürgen motioned to the garlic eater and Deeks wrists were cut free from his ankles and he was lifted to his bare feet and shoved toward the waiting jet. He stumbled and another man was called over to help hold him up as he struggled to walk. Jürgen climbed the stairs ahead of him and the garlic eater shoved him up, but Deeks fell forward and leaned back heavily against the side of the stairway. He turned to look at the man standing behind him at the base of the stairs, his face level with his feet and Deeks took a deep breath and slammed the heel of his foot into the garlic eater's nose, grinning as the man cried out and fell back onto the concrete.

"How'd that feel, you sonofabitch?" Deeks asked, breathing hard from the effort.

Jürgen silenced him with a vicious kick to the head and he slid slowly back down the stairs. Then the foreigner stepped over his still form and stared down at the man with the broken nose. He pulled a gun and motioned for the man to get up and directed him to the back of the blue panel truck and told him to get in. The garlic eater hesitated and then began to plead with the man, but he finally did what he was told, his eyes wide with fear. Jürgen shot him twice in the chest and then calmly walked to the driver's side of the truck and looked in at the man who sat rigidly behind the wheel.

"You got my money?" The man asked without a laugh, staring straight ahead, afraid to look at the foreigner. "I'll dispose of the body in back. No charge."

"That won't be necessary," the foreigner said as he raised his gun and shot him in the head.

He motioned for the two remaining men to carry Deeks up into the plane as the engines revved and then picked up a gas can and poured its contents all over the back of the panel truck and over the body of the man slumped in the front seat, throwing the can inside when he was done. He took out a silver lighter and lit a cigarette, smoking it thoughtfully before flicking it into the back of the truck as he walked away, hurrying up the stairs and into the jet, instructing the pilot to go. The sleek jet taxied out of the hanger as the blue panel truck slowly became engulfed in flames and the plane was in the air before the truck exploded and fire began to lick the sides of the hanger. The jet flew far out over the Pacific before banking and heading toward Mexico.

Jürgen treated himself to a brandy and a cigarette as he stood staring down at his new project. The man had been quite handsome before the beating and his body was well toned, though now badly bruised and Jürgen longed to touch it, but restrained himself for now. He savored his brandy as his mind sifted through the various means he might use to destroy this man's spirit. Granger had provided complete files on him and he sat down to read through them again as he finished his brandy and cigarette. His lips formed a thin line as he read about his childhood and tucked the information in the back of his mind, knowing it would be an effective tool to use.

He believed there were ways other than violence to break a man, although he was not adverse to using it, he rather enjoyed the feeling of power it gave him, he always had. But the kind of power he craved came from taking it from others. He looked forward to making the blond man feel so powerless that he would lose the will to live. He knew Granger wanted to destroy his personality, to literally erase him as payback for his own fall from grace, and he would gladly do that and had already started by culling him from the herd, isolating him, separating him from everyone who cared about him, depriving him of all emotional support. Now the prisoner belonged to him, whatever Granger may think, the blond man was his to do with as he wanted and he groaned in anticipation.

"I will enjoy our time together, my friend," he said softly before rising and picking up a syringe.

Deeks had been thrown face down onto the bed in the room at the rear of the private jet and Jürgen now sat down beside him and picked up his left arm, laying it across his knee and injecting a strong sedative into his vein. He hated to give him any relief from his pain, but it would be a long flight and he wanted no trouble after dropping the cartel members he had hired back in Mexico. After checking his pupils and his pulse to make sure he was completely sedated, Jürgen began to remove the remains of the prisoner's torn and bloody shirt. He took his time, noticing that his prisoner's skin was hot to the touch and he smiled before he pulled him over onto his back and arranged his body so that he was lying spread eagle across the bed.

He poured himself another glass of brandy and sat down once again beside his prisoner, looking him over while he finished his drink. He brushed the tangled hair off his forehead and stared at his face, remembering the impact the man's pale blue eyes had had on him the first time he saw a photo of him. He began to run his hands slowly over his arms and then across his chest and down his sides, stopping whenever he felt a cracked rib or a break, noting in his mind just where they were. His hand finally came to rest on the prisoner's abdomen, dark with mottled bruises, which he brushed with his thumb as his eyes roamed over the damage the Mexicans had done. He would have examined him further, but he was tired and he would have all the time he needed for that when they arrived at their destination. He hoped Granger didn't interfere too much with his plans, because he felt an attachment to this prisoner now. He wasn't sure how long Granger planned to keep him alive, but the longer the better as far as he was concerned. Granger had told him he wanted the man's death to be a slow process and that was the reason he had agreed to take the job. Now, he was looking forward to the days and weeks ahead.

He ran a finger down the length of the prisoner's arm one last time before standing and turning toward the door to the main cabin. He was going to enjoy everything about this job and he lifted his fingers to his nose, inhaling the young man's scent and then touched his finger with the tip of his tongue, wondering at the hint of salt he tasted.

...

...

His first sensation was the smell of cigarettes and the memory of the pain associated with it brought on a strong sense of panic as he struggled to come out of his deep sleep. His body didn't seem to want to respond to what his brain was warning him about so he forced his eyes open, trying to place where he was. The bright lights were disorienting at first, but he fought for control and tried to sit up, only managing to raise his head before becoming immediately dizzy, his head dropping back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and felt his heart wildly fluttering in his chest, his mouth dry and his tongue thick and he knew he had been drugged by the man Granger had sent to take him. He tried to control his panic and took a couple of deep breaths before he realized his hands and feet were free and it surprised him and he wondered if he had been rescued. Then he caught another sharp smell of cigarette smoke and knew he was still a prisoner, causing his stomach to roil with nausea, anticipating what was to come. He was awake, but he couldn't move his arms and his legs felt like lead. What the hell had they given him, he wondered and how long had he been out? A sudden slap across his left cheek jolted him and he opened his eyes as his captor sat down next to him and rested his hand at the base of his throat.

"Welcome to Polokwane, Limpopo, South Africa," Jürgen said softly. "You are very close to your final destination, my friend."

Deeks tried to say something in response but found he was unable to speak for some reason and he felt panic rise again in his chest and he wanted to push the man's hand off of him but he couldn't move his arms. Jürgen smiled down on him, enjoying the fear he could see in his eyes, patting him gently on the chest before picking up a syringe from the table next to the bed. He brought Deeks' arm down and laid it across his leg and Deeks was unable to do anything about it, so he closed his eyes tightly in frustration as he felt the needle enter his arm. His mind immediately began to fog and he felt drained of all energy, the man's soft laughter the last thing he heard as darkness claimed him.

Jürgen watched him go limp and calmly sat watching him for a while, excited about their arrival and the days to come. He was becoming enthralled by this prisoner and what he wanted to do to him, the first being to take all control away from him, including control over his own body. He'd seen the fear in his eyes and he wondered if his mind had flashed back to his childhood. No child has complete control over what happens to them, he knew that from experience, they are all at the mercy of their parents. This prisoner had experienced even less control because he had been abused at the whim of his brutal father, never sure when the pain was coming, but certain that eventually that pain would come. Taking him back to that feeling of helplessness was part of his plan to steal the blond man's sense of self. When he was through with him, he wouldn't care if he lived or died because he would be totally alone in the world, unloved and in constant pain, with no human contact except with men who wanted to hurt him and eventually not even knowing who he once had been.

Jürgen stood and called for the Afrikaners and they easily lifted the prisoner onto a gurney, covering him in blankets, almost obscuring his face. Jürgen watched as they took him from the plane and placed him in the back of a private ambulance. He called Granger to let him know they had landed and to ask if he had any additional instructions, but the man added nothing, leaving the first few days of the prisoner's captivity entirely in his hands. He smiled in anticipation as he got in the Mercedes Granger had sent for his use. He appreciated the gesture, but it was too ostentatious for this part of South Africa and he knew he would exchange it for an older Range Rover before leaving the city. Limpopo was a poor Province and he didn't want to stand out in any way. He let the Afrikaners he had hired know where to meet him and then instructed his driver where to take him. He had spent a week here in preparation for the prisoner's arrival, so he was quite familiar with the small city and had already rented a nice house on the outskirts. His prisoner's accommodations would be quite different.

...

...

His own shivering woke him, not that he could move beyond that. He realized he was afraid to open his eyes, afraid he might see the man Jürgen next to him and feel violated again by the man's constant need to touch him and unable to stop it. He swallowed his nagging fear and took a deep breath, the smell so different from the last time he was awake. Now he smelled dirt and the overpowering odor of urine. The air was dry and warm, hot almost, and it made him open his eyes. He was lying on a cracked concrete floor in the middle of a filthy jail cell that was littered with trash, the small amount of light coming from a tiny barred window high on one wall. Clouds of tiny flies and small buzzing insects hovered over him as he listened intensely for a few minutes before trying to move. He heard nothing but the insects and the cry of some animal he had never heard before. He had no idea how long he had been here, but he was glad to be alone. He struggled to lift his head and then an arm, but he couldn't and he felt a sinking sense of despondency settle over him, wanting to curse, but finding he was unable to do even that, his tongue thick and dry in his mouth. He let his mind drift and memories of being taken almost choked him, his anger building until he began cursing Granger and Jürgen silently in his mind with the foulest words he could think of before slowly succumbing to the drugs in his system, falling asleep as flies crawled over his bare chest.

When he woke it was pitch black and a horrific animal cry sounded just beyond the wall of his cell and he sat up. Surprised, he smiled and managed to get on his feet, stumbling to the bars and holding himself up and relishing the feeling of being upright and under his own power. He was terribly thirsty as he worked to free his tongue from the roof of his mouth, finally spitting out a small amount of saliva and trying out his voice.

"Where are you fuck head?" He called out into the night.

Suddenly a flashlight blinded his eyes and he lost his grip on the bars and started to slide toward the floor. Three men entered the cell and grabbed his arms, dragging him to the back wall of the tiny cell and slamming him hard against the rough concrete. Bright flashes of pain zigzagged through his head, dulling his mind as he sagged toward the floor. Then he smelled the smoke from a cigarette and he froze. The cigarette flared, illuminating Jürgen's face briefly as he walked into the cell, finally stopping quite close and just standing there looking straight into his eyes without speaking a word for a few minutes. Deeks felt the man's hand close around his throat, the pressure increasing as he leaned close to his ear.

"Do not ever call me dirty names again," Jürgen finally said softly as he choked him hard. "Do you understand? I won't allow you to call me dirty names and if you do you will be punished."

Deeks was slowly losing consciousness as the man's hand tightened around his throat, but his anger flared and he fought against all of them.

"You will be alone here for three days without food or water," he said barely above a whisper. "Then I will be back."

"You're a perverted, filthy bag of shit," Deeks croaked out and kicked him solidly in the leg, causing him to stumble back.

Jürgen spoke something quickly in German and the three men forced Deeks to his knees as he cursed them vehemently and loudly, before they slammed him face down onto the floor, stunning him into silence. Barely conscious, he was kicked over onto his back and as two of the men held him down, he felt one of the men undo his pants, pulling them roughly down over his hips and off, leaving him naked at Jürgen's feet.

"Now you will pay for your insults," Jürgen said before speaking once again to the Afrikaners.

Deeks was pulled over the floor of his cell and yanked up onto his feet and pushed hard against the bars. One man held him there while the other two pulled his arms straight out from his sides, tying a course rope tightly to each wrist and securing him to the bars and stretching him out until he cried out at the pain in his joints. Then they began to wrap the rope around and around his arms and the bars until they met at his body, then crisscrossing the ropes tightly around his body they cinched him up tightly until he couldn't move and could barely breathe. They did the same to each leg until he was trussed brutally to the bars of the cell.

His heart was pounding with fear as Jürgen stepped up behind him.

"You are mine. I own you. I can do anything I want to you and you are powerless to stop me." Jürgen said, breathing softly against the back of his neck as he slowly slid his hands down along his ribs, stopping to press his fingers into the cracked ones each time and laughing lightly when he cried out, touching his body in the dark, claiming him with every stroke of his hand and whispering to him as he screamed and shouted out curses until his voice became raw with the effort.

Deeks wasn't even aware when they left, but when he finally stopped yelling, angry tears streaked his face as the night, full of strange, eerie sounds, closed in around him.

...


	16. Chapter 16

**Vengeance: Chapter 16**

...

Deeks sensed someone in front of him and felt a cold rush of fear. Expecting it to be Jürgen, he drew in a small painful breath and opened his eyes. Staring back at him was a wide-eyed little black boy dressed in bright blue shorts and a green and red tee shirt with a soccer team logo on the front. The boy took a step back, but continued to stare at him and Deeks could see that he was afraid, but there was a hint of curiosity there as well. Deeks closed his eyes as a surge of pain enveloped him and a groan came from deep within his chest as he tried to adjust his position but was unable to, the ropes cutting into his body whenever he moved even a little bit. He opened his mouth, trying to say something that would help him connect with the boy, his lip cracking as he did and he tasted blood as he ran his tongue over the swollen bruises he'd suffered last night. He watched the boy look behind him and he realized the door there was open and he could see an enclosed concrete courtyard and a passageway on the other side that was open to the wild dry plains beyond. A few short, scrubby looking trees dotted the rocky landscape, which was covered in low brush, the colors almost gray in the early morning light. He looked back and saw that the boy was nervous now, his eyes constantly searching warily to see if anyone was coming.

"Help me," Deeks whispered, unsure if the boy even spoke English.

The effort to speak and the ever increasing pain exhausted him as he waited, the boy still not having moved more than a few steps. He could see he was trying to decide what to do and Deeks could only hope he would tell someone what he had seen and that help would come.

"What's your name?" Deeks asked, but the boy simply stared back at him.

"My name is Deeks," he said, trying to get a conversation going.

"Deeks," the boy repeated softly.

"What's your name?" He asked again.

"Thuso," he answered and then turned and ran out the door, slamming it closed behind him.

Deeks' head dropped against the bars, dejection overcoming the brief flare of hope when the boy had spoken his name. He wasn't even sure if the word the boy had spoken was his name, but he was pretty sure it was his own scary appearance that had caused the boy to run. He took a few shallow breaths as the ropes burned raw marks into his skin, tormenting his cracked ribs wherever the ropes crossed them. He could feel his wrists bleeding again and he shivered from the fever raging in his body, his thirst almost unbearable in the unexpected heat.

"Fuck!" He yelled out, his anger suddenly hot as frustration filled him. He couldn't move any part of his body more than an inch and even that hurt like hell. He could hardly breathe and he wanted to scream, but was afraid the effort would cause him even more pain, so he swallowed it.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since the boy had been there and he thought he must have passed out, but now he raised his head when he heard the metal door creak open. The face of the boy appeared in the opening, joined by another face a few seconds later. The two of them pushed the door all the way open and stood side-by-side staring at him briefly before they began to talk animatedly to each other in their own language. The second boy looked slightly older, but his clothing was as colorful as the first boy's. His pants were yellow and his red tee shirt said Coca-Cola across the front and it made Deeks' mouth water just thinking about the taste of the drink. Their conversation over, the first boy pulled the other one up to the cell and pointed at him.

"Deeks," the boy said plainly and then pointed at himself and said, "Thuso."

"Dikobo," the older boy pointed at his chest as he spoke, then said something to Thuso and climbed up on the lower crossbars of the cell, making himself almost eye level with Deeks. He smiled and reached his hand down, taking a Coca-Cola bottle filled with water from Thuso. Deeks became weak when he saw what the boy held in his hands, almost weeping at the kindness of their act as the boy lifted the bottle to his lips and helped him drink.

"Thank you," he managed to croak out to the boy clinging to the bars next to his face.

"Okay!" the boy said with a huge smile, obviously proud of himself, as he put the bottle to Deeks' lips once again, finally climbing down and handing the empty bottle to Thuso to put in his small knapsack. Then the two talked seriously for a couple of minutes, every once in awhile pointing at him, their faces solemn as they looked at him. Finally, they waved goodbye and left, once again closing the door, leaving him alone in the dim light.

It turned into a very warm day and he passed in and out of consciousness and delirium as his fever raged. His body became slick with sweat and the flies and insects returned to torment him. They made him think of Sheila and how her tail constantly swished the flies away, and he wished he had one, almost laughing at the thought, his mind drifting back to his time at the ranch. His daydreams tumbled with images from his days there, his mind ringing with the things George had told him, his remembered hugs making him long for their comfort.

"Don't forget me," he murmured as he sagged against the ropes, finally succumbing to the pain, drifting into a dark fog.

He jerked awake at an unknown sound and cried out as the ropes cut into his body. It was the screech of the outside door opening and he could see that the sun was close to setting. The two boys came in quickly, Dikobo keeping watch as Thuso climbed the bars this time. He hung by one arm as he reached into his knapsack, pulling out something wrapped in paper. The boy quickly opened it and dipped his fingers into what looked like a yellow paste with bits of meat embedded in it and brought it to Deeks mouth. He motioned for him to eat and then made a yummy sound like he was talking to a child.

His stomach growled as the smell of corn and lamb wafted up from the boy's fingers. He took the mixture into his mouth and swallowed. It was quite good and he was terribly hungry, figuring he hadn't eaten for at least three days. The boy fed him quickly and then brought out the Coke bottle of water and let him drink his fill. Deeks felt his stomach clinch in pain and wondered briefly if the water was sanitary, almost laughing at how far he had fallen from only drinking bottled water and soy lattes. Now, he only prayed he wouldn't get sick, but knowing that what these two boys had done had given him hope and a chance to gather some strength in order to survive. He had only been tied up for one day, with two to go. Jürgen told him no food or water for three long days, which would have weakened him even more than he already was.

He listened as the two boys talked quietly, before turning toward him with big eyes. Thuso walked up to him and reached in and gently patted his leg before he turned and followed his friend out, closing the door as he left. The little boy's gesture touched him deeply and warm tears spilled down his cheeks.

The night brought the sounds of another world, wild and frightening for him, having no way to defend himself if wild animals got inside. He realized then that the boys knew that, making sure they always closed the door behind them. The cry of what he thought might be a hyena made him jerk against the ropes, causing him to cry out and sending his body into a bout of shivering he had no way of controlling. When it finally stopped, his mind filled with nightmarish images of being taken and beaten and he mentally fought for relief, searching through memories of Kensi that might ease his despair. It saddened him that they had never made up, but he knew she would be looking for him, all of them would, and that gave him a reason to fight. He drifted then, his head filled with remembered scenes of crashing waves, beers with Kensi, riding along the creek on Sheila, trading wisecracks with Joe and teasing Sam into laughing at his jokes while Callen shook his head with a bemused look on his face. He went over and over his long talks with George, drawing strength and resolve from his words. He only had to wait, to survive long enough for them to find him.

...

The touch of Jürgen's hand on the back of his neck startled him awake and he sucked in a deep breath, hissing in pain as the ropes tightened around his swollen body. The last two days had been a blur, foggy and uncertain except when the two boys came to give him water and a little food. He was delirious most of the time, mumbling out names and song lyrics just to keep going, but not sure what was real and what wasn't. The touch of Jürgen's hand crawling up into his hair and pulling his head back until his throat was taut was too real and he swallowed hard as he tried to prepare himself.

"You smell disgusting," Jürgen said harshly, his lips brushing against his ear. "You've become a foul piece of filth, haven't you my friend?"

Deeks had no chance to answer before a rubber gag was shoved into his mouth, the taste sharply bitter and nauseating as they cinched it tightly at the back of his head.

"Granger will be here shortly and he doesn't want to hear your voice," Jürgen said. "Not even the sound of you screaming."

The sudden punch into the base of his spine sent exploding pain down his legs and into his abdomen as Jürgen slammed his head against the bars, opening a cut over his right eye. He sagged and would have passed out if Jürgen hadn't yanked his head back almost immediately, shushing him while he calmly stroked his throat. The door opened in front of him and he saw Granger silhouetted against the bright background, dressed impeccably in a white linen suit with a white Panama hat cocked over his dark aviator sunglasses, his beard neatly trimmed around his mouth and chin.

"How's it going Detective?" Granger asked with smirk. "Jürgen treating you well? Oh, that's right, you can't speak and when I'm around you never will. I heard enough from you at the Senate hearings."

Granger stepped up close to the bars and wrinkled his nose at the smell of him, taking out a crisp white handkerchief and holding it over his nose.

"Let me show you some pictures, Deeks," he said. "I don't want you to get your hopes up that your friends will come and rescue you, because they won't. They think you're dead, Detective. I hear Hetty was devastated. Your death was announced to the whole agency with an email. Kind of cold, if you ask me."

His laughter came out almost as a giggle and Deeks tried to call him dirty names through the gag, but they only sounded like groans of rage.

"You don't exist, Deeks," he said. "Except to me and Mr. Jürgen here. You took everything from me, you worthless piece of garbage and now I intend to slowly and painfully take everything from you. Everything that made you Marty Deeks, Jürgen is going to eradicate, just like the pest you are."

He motioned for his assistant and the man held up a tablet showing the photographs that were taken the night he was beaten. Deeks' eyes widened when he saw the familiar set up and the photo of him almost completely buried in a shallow grave, and he moaned, closing his eyes and slumping into the bars of his cell.

"You destroyed my career, you pile of shit," Granger said softly. "You took away my position of power, and you are going to pay for that. I'm going to take away everything that makes you you, Deeks. Everything."

Deeks' head was yanked back and he opened his eyes as a buzzing sound neared his forehead. The clippers dug into his scalp and one of the Afrikaners began to roughly shave his head. He screamed through the gag and tried to fight it as lengths of his dirty blond hair cascaded down around him. Jürgen pressed his face against the bars as he struggled. They were taking a signature part of him and a feeling of crushing defeat settled over him and choked him as he realized he would never see anyone he cared about again and that he was going to die painfully and alone, far from home in the company of psychos.

"Cut him down," Granger said, all business now. "And give him just enough food and water to keep him alive. Do whatever you want to him until I get back from my business trip, Jürgen. Just don't let him die. Not yet."

Granger walked out and Jürgen motioned for the Afrikaners to leave. When he was alone with the prisoner he pulled a large knife out of a sheath behind his back and began to cut away the ropes from Deeks' legs. Then he slowly cut through the ones holding his body tight to the bars, running his hand over the raw red marks that remained on his skin. When he unwrapped his arms, Deeks hung limply from his wrists, moaning as his circulation returned in shivering waves of electric pain. The remains of his wild blond hair lay scattered around his feet and Jürgen picked up a length of it and moved behind the semiconscious man. Jürgen rubbed his hand over his shaved head, noticing the many nicks and cuts that oozed blood. Pulling Deeks' head back against his shoulder, he dangled the long blond length of hair in front of him, laughing softly as Deeks opened his eyes.

"Such a shame, my friend," Jürgen said softly. "I liked your hair. Now, it's just one more part of you we've taken away."

He released him then, walking out of the cell and locking it before pocketing the strand of Deeks' hair, staring into his eyes as he stood in front of him. His eyebrows rose slightly when he saw a feral look grow in the prisoner's pale blue eyes and he smiled.

"You want to fight," Jürgen declared, amazed at the man's determination.

Jürgen removed the gag before slicing through his remaining bonds and Deeks grabbed onto the bars, trying to stay on his feet and remain conscious. He was breathing heavily, covered in sweat as mind numbing pain coursed through his body.

"I'm going to kill you," Deeks said, panting hard.

"I don't think so, my friend," Jürgen laughed, then quickly slashed his knife across one of Deeks' wrist, stepping back as the blood began to flow.

Deeks managed to stay upright for a few seconds before his energy and the pain from the last few torturous days and the shock of what they had just done to him all crashed down, sending him to his knees before he collapsed unconscious to the floor. Jürgen stared down as the blood pooled around his hand, knowing the blood loss would weaken his prisoner even more. His body was ravaged, marked with dark bruises and raw stripes where the ropes had cut into his skin, but he was still resisting, still refusing to give in to total despair and that surprised him and made him wonder where that strength of spirit came from. The prisoner's will to live was strong and he began to reconsider his plan of attack. He called the Afrikaner back, telling him to give him a bowl of rice and a bottle of water when he came to and instructions to bandage the cut on his wrist. Jürgen didn't want him bleeding out just yet.

It was almost sunset when he woke, mumbling in the haze of fever. He rolled onto his back and groaned at the effort, and then anger filled him and he raised his head, listening for any sounds of Jürgen or his men. His wrist was wrapped, but the bandage was dark with blood and he felt dizzy as he sat up, resting his back against the bars. He was alone now and his mind focused on what Granger had said. No one knew he was alive and anger began to overcome his feeling of despondency. They had taken him away from his friends and newly found family and he was suddenly struck by what his death would mean for all of them.

He still remembered the warmth that had infused his whole being when George had called him his son and said that he loved him. Then he had cautioned him to be careful because it would hurt to lose him, and now, he thought he had. The kind man who he regarded as a father and who meant the world to him had been told he was dead. These men had caused George pain, had hurt Joe and especially Kensi and that knowledge almost crushed him. He knew the team all cared for him in their own way and Granger had trampled on that. Maybe it was what he wanted to do all along, destroy him and destroy the team at the same time. Granger blamed them all and that hate had won out, but he knew the team would go on in spite of losing him. They were strong, but the knowledge that Kensi would lose someone else she loved made his anger explode in his chest. It was all he had left and he made up his mind to fight them until he had no breath left in his body.

He heard the scrape of the metal door and reached out for the bars of his cell and struggled to his feet, clinging to the bars to hold himself up. He raised his head to confront whoever was there, but was surprised to see the two boys staring back with shocked looks on their faces. They stepped close and handed him the wrapped food and the Coke bottle of water, talking excitedly to each other as he ate. They pointed at his head and then Dikobo reached through the bars and picked up a piece of his hair, shrugging his shoulders as if to ask why. He smiled at him and shrugged his own shoulders, and they laughed, seemingly content with his response. They were his only hope now and their faithful attendance to his care caused him to choke up and they noticed. His eyes blurred with tears, but he felt one boy's small hand patting him gently on the stomach, trying to comfort him and it was almost too much. Then he heard the door pushed open further and one of the Afrikaner guards walked in and stopped in surprise when he saw the two boys.

"What the hell are you kaffirs doing?" He yelled, dropping the bowl of rice and the bottled water he had brought.

He quickly grabbed Thuso as he tried to run and Dikobo backed up against the wall, his eyes wide with fear. The little boy struggled in the guard's arms, screaming and crying as the man began to slap him. Deeks went cold, his anger suddenly full blown as he reached through the bars and wrapped his arm around the Afrikaner's neck, yanking him back hard against the bars.

"Let him go, asshole," Deeks growled, his voice deep and full of fury as he tightened the chokehold on the man until he released the boy.

"Go, Thuso, run. Both of you, go," Deeks shouted at the frightened boys.

They ran as Deeks choked the Afrikaner until he went limp in his arms. He was practically shaking when he finally let him go and the man slumped to the floor and Deeks was pretty sure he'd killed him.

"Serves you right, you fucking bastard," he yelled at the dead man, a terrible darkness of hate clouding his pale blue eyes.

...

...

It had been three days since Deeks' death and Hetty thought it might be time to arrange for a memorial service. Eric had been trying to find out where his body might be buried, but had found nothing, becoming more irritable as the days passed. She had watched Sam try and return to some semblance of normalcy, but today he had spent almost a half hour staring out at nothing, his eyes blank, until Callen had gotten up and gone over to him, shaking him out of his stupor. Callen himself had been no better and she knew he desperately wanted to find someone to pay for what had happened to Deeks, especially after his run in with Bates at the hospital. He had wanted answers to some questions he had, but Bates had gotten surly with him and he had exploded at the man, yelling out accusations against the Lieutenant and the entire LAPD. It wasn't like him and she had taken him to task over it, but that had only caused him to go to the firing range, firing off round after round until his hands began to shake and Sam came in to pull him off the line.

Kensi had been at home since it happened, unwilling to talk to anyone except Nell, who was showing her own signs of fatigue. There was no one around to relieve the tension. That had been Deeks' special gift, always able to get people laughing by expounding on some new age theory about the future or challenging one of the others to some contest he thought he could best them at, or just by zinging out a wiseass remark and letting loose his infectious laugh. Hetty knew they all had to get past this sad loss somehow and she knew it wasn't easy because she hadn't come to terms with it yet herself. She missed him and she caught herself looking for his tousled blond hair at the oddest times. They all needed closure and a memorial service might be able to give them that, at least she certainly hoped it would.

...


	17. Chapter 17

**Vengeance: Chapter 17**

...

_If you would like to add to your experience, please listen to Eileen Ivers play O'Donnell's Lament on YouTube...it's haunting and will set the mood for this chapter._

...

The sky was overcast, muting the waves and making them seem listless and sad. People had begun to straggle in, walking gingerly through the sand, their voices muted as well, talking softly to one another if at all. Occasionally, someone would hug someone, and small groups would form from the different friends represented, people staying close to those they knew. A small group of surfers in wetsuits stood off by themselves near the wave line waiting for their time, looking out over the dull gray sea, their boards at their feet. The men from the FBI came in suits and most of the men and women from the LAPD were in uniform, but the NCIS people had worn everyday clothes, none of them standing out as they made their way from the parking lot.

Callen stood solemnly by Sam and his family, watching as more and more people gathered on the beach. He was still somewhat amazed that Hetty had managed to get a state beach closed for the day, but he knew he shouldn't be. When Eric had told her that Surfrider Beach was one of Deeks' favorites, she had made a few calls and the location for the memorial service was set. She'd closed the office as well and Callen had seen her standing next to Deeks' desk for a few minutes that morning talking on the phone to Nell and finally Kensi as she tried to convince her to join them for the service.

"Is she coming?" Sam asked.

"Hetty finally convinced her this morning," Callen answered, nodding toward the group of people coming toward them across the sand.

Kensi walked between Joe and George Atwood, each with an arm around her to steady her. She stopped several times and seemed to want to turn back so Callen and Sam made their way to them. When they got close they could hear her angrily arguing that this was wrong and the two agents looked sadly at one another.

"Kens?" Sam said softly as he stopped in front of her. "Don't do this."

"Why, Sam?" She was furious and angrier than any of them had ever seen her as she pulled away from them.

"You have to let him go, Kens," Callen tried to reason with her, but he only saw her eyes flash at him in return.

"He's not dead, Callen," she said firmly. "Don't you think I'd know if he was? I would feel it."

Tears began to fill her eyes as she tried to make them understand. George Atwood stepped in front of her and wrapped her in a hug, holding her gently as her tears soaked his shirt, stroking her hair and telling her softly that he understood, that he knew what she was feeling and a deep sob escaped as she sagged in his arms.

"He can't be gone, George," she sobbed. "He can't be."

"He's in our hearts now, Kensi," he said softly as he quietly calmed her down.

Kensi's mom and Nell finally led her over to where Nate was talking with Hetty. Callen was glad Nate had managed to make it back in the country for the service, knowing now how much Kensi needed him to be there, not that she would admit it. He caught Nate's eye and the psychologist nodded back in understanding, taking Kensi's arm and leading her off down the beach.

Callen's attention was drawn back to his own group when he saw a striking looking man striding toward them, his straight black hair hanging way past his shoulders. He was wearing a black western shirt, black chinos and cowboy boots, his walk fluid and easy and his body well built, making him look almost as intimidating as Sam, especially with the concerned look he had on his face. When the man stopped beside Joe, Callen noticed he had a knife in a sheath against his back and it made him instantly curious about the man.

"You okay, Cuz?" Elan Hand asked, a warm smile softening his sharp features as he threw an arm around Joe.

"Glad you made it, man," Joe responded, wiping his own eyes quickly before he was embraced by his cousin.

"Couldn't get Littleshield on a plane, could you." George stated.

"He said horses and trucks are the only things he'll ride," Elan answered before introducing himself to Callen and Sam.

"Kensi told us how she beat you in a shooting match," Callen said with a bemused look, finally able to put a face to the story Kensi had taken great joy in telling.

"Yeah, and I'm still embarrassed. Thanks for bringing it up," Elan said with a quick laugh.

"G," Sam said, nodding toward a couple walking toward them.

Pete Archuleta, looking weary and sad, his long hair pulled back at his neck, came to a stop in front of them, his arm around Celina.

"You sure this time?" he asked the two agents.

"Yeah," Callen said.

"But you don't have a body," Pete said.

"No," Sam answered.

"You find out where my father is yet?" Celina asked, her voice hard and low.

"We're still looking, Celina," Callen answered, not wanting to get into it with her.

"And you're sure he had nothing to do with this?" she asked sharply.

"Celina, this is Deeks' memorial service," Pete said with a pleading tone in his voice that made everyone aware that this had not been the first time they'd discussed this.

"He's capable of this kind of subterfuge, Pete," she said angrily. "Just look at again, Callen, with fresh eyes."

Pete pulled her away, leading her down to the water.

"Who was that?" Joe asked.

"Pete Archuleta was a close friend and worked undercover with Deeks when he was with LAPD," Callen answered, his eyes narrowing as he watched Celina still arguing with Pete.

"Celina is Owen Granger's daughter," Sam said.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Joe exploded. "Why is she here and why does she think her father might have something to do with Marty's death?"

"Celina was a DEA agent and was undercover when she was kidnapped and held by the leader of a drug cartel down along the border. Celina had given birth to his son," Callen told him. "Granger sent Deeks down there alone to get her out and after he did, Granger left him stranded with the guy on his tail. We all thought he'd been killed, but he survived and we got him back. Celina never forgave her father for leaving Deeks behind, among other things."

"Could she be right, Callen?" George asked.

"It's plausible after the threat he made, but there's no evidence," he answered. "Everything points to Proczko."

"Hey guys," a voice called from behind.

The group parted to see the two 5-0 detectives from Hawaii, Danny Williams and Chin Ho Park approaching, their arms draped with leis.

"Hetty asked us to bring these for the service," Chin said as he held up a couple of leis. "You have our deepest condolences."

"Deeks was funny," Danny said sadly. "He got me with a couple of pretty good zingers while we were here."

Joe lost it then, turning and walking quickly away, furiously wiping away tears as Elan hurried after him and George followed, unable to speak.

"Was that Deeks' family?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered.

"Funny, he didn't look anything like 'em," Danny said. "He bleached his hair, right? I knew he had to bleach it. Am I right?"

No one answered him and Chin was ready to strangle him as Sam and Callen turned toward the ocean.

The service was starting, so the group walked down to the edge of the beach, reuniting with Kensi and her mother as George stood solemnly gripping his son's shoulder. The words Hetty spoke were hard to hear, the wind blowing some of them away and the gulls' crying overhead drowned out some of the rest, but everyone heard what they needed when she asked them to remember in their own way "the vibrant young man who graced our lives".

The surfers pushed out into the water towing Deeks' surfboard, which was covered in leis and topped with a battered straw cowboy hat. They formed a circle out beyond the break with his board in the middle as seagulls dove and circled overhead. As a friend of Hetty's played O'Donnell's Lament on the violin, a sudden wave broke out beyond the circle, lifting the surfers and tipping the leis and cowboy hat into the sea, pushing them back toward the beach on the incoming wave.

Elan Hand shivered as he watched one of the leis wash up on the beach along with the cowboy hat. He looked quickly at George and then walked into the surf, picking up the hat and holding it as he watched the surfers follow the wave in. He turned back to find George standing beside him and he handed him the hat.

"You know I don't usually believe all that spiritual stuff Uncle Jim does," Elan said. "But if he were here, he would tell you this is a sign."

George nodded, saying nothing as he cradled the old hat against his chest. Elan left him there, walking up the beach away from the crowd and Callen watched him, curious about the exchange between the two men. Since George was now surrounded by Kensi and her mother and Joe and Diane, he decided to ask Elan about it. He grabbed a couple of beers as he passed a drink table laden with bottles of whiskey and scotch and tubs full of beer and headed up toward the spot where Elan leaned back against the rocks staring out toward the horizon.

"Beer?" Callen asked, handing it over.

"Thanks," Elan replied, drinking deeply and then dropping his head.

"I hate this," he said. "Seeing George and Joe hurting this bad again just pisses me off."

"Why'd you come?" Callen asked, quietly assessing the man.

"They're family," Elan said, a look of surprise in his questioning eyes.

"They meant a lot to Deeks," Callen said softly as his eyes roamed the crowd below. "You know, we always thought Deeks didn't have that many friends, but look at all these people. I think it would amaze him to see just how many people really cared about him, even from the LAPD."

"He saved both their lives," Elan said almost to himself before downing the rest of his beer. "If Joe had been killed on their last operation, I'm not sure George would have survived it. Now, he's lost Marty and it's tearing him up. They had a special connection, those two. My uncle, Jim Littleshield believes their souls were spiritual mirrors of one another."

"Is that what you two were talking about when you gave him back the hat?" Callen asked.

"Yeah. Uncle Jim would have taken it as a sign," Elan said as he gazed out over Callen's head.

"A sign of what?" Callen's voice expressing how skeptical he was of such things.

"That Marty's alive," he said softly, challenging Callen as he stared into his eyes.

"You don't believe that," Callen said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the man in front of him.

"I'm a realist, but I also think you never know," he replied, cocking his head. "Also, I think someone's secretly photographing the service. He's up on the hill overlooking the beach and he has a telephoto lens."

Callen froze imperceptibly.

"When'd you spot him?" Callen asked.

"About a minute ago when I saw a reflection off the lens," Elan and Callen looked knowingly at each other and then turned together toward the beach, making their way back to the crowd. Callen glanced quickly up and saw the man leaning over the edge for another shot. The two men moved inconspicuously among the people until finding Sam and Joe talking quietly near one of the food tables.

"Someone's shooting pictures of this," Callen said calmly and watched the men's focus sharpen.

"Where is he?" Sam asked.

"Just above the parking lot on the bluff above us." Callen waved at Eric, who saw the look Callen was giving him and made his way to them, pulling Nell along with him.

"Eric, are there any security cameras you can access here?" Callen asked.

"I left my tablet in the trunk," Eric said apologetically.

Nell smiled as she shook her head and pulled her own tablet out of a large bag she was carrying. The two techs cleared a space on the food table and accessed the main server. After a brief search, the parking lot came into view. Another camera showed an overview of the beach, including the bluff and the man was plainly visible as he took shot after shot of the crowd below him.

"Joe, you and Elan head up to the parking lot and wait," Callen instructed. "Sam and I will follow you and flush him out. If he manages to get to his car, get the plate number."

"Why can't I just tackle the bastard?" Joe asked darkly.

"That'll work too," Sam said as they all started toward the parking lot.

Joe and Elan found a spot next to a large truck that kept them out of the man's view and watched as Sam and Callen skirted around behind the photographer, who seemed oblivious to their presence. He plugged his camera into a laptop and then appeared to be typing. He finished and then calmly closed his laptop and began to pack up his camera when Callen and Sam stepped up beside him.

"You paparazzi?" Callen smirked as the man jumped.

"You scared the crap out of me, asshole," he yelled, scrambling to his feet.

Sam grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and pushed him backwards rapidly toward the parking lot as fast as he could, ignoring the man's curses. He slammed him back against a car and leaned into his face as the other three gathered around him.

"Why you shooting pictures of this memorial service?" Sam asked loudly.

"Hey, it's a free country," he said, struggling to get free. "I see a crowd, I shoot. Just in case there are any celebrities, you know?"

"Bullshit," Joe said. "Do we look like celebrities to you? Somebody hired you. Who was it?"

"I'm gonna call the cops if you don't let me go," the man whined.

"Yeah? Well you're in luck, dickhead. We're Federal Agents," Joe growled in his face.

"Yeah? Well I got rights and you guys have to obey the law or I'll file assault charges," the man pushed himself free of the car and stood shaking as Callen opened the man's laptop and called Eric and told him to come up.

Elan stepped up in front of the man with a very large hunting knife in his hand, glaring at the man before suddenly speaking in a language none of them understood.

"What the hell did he say?" the man pleaded as he looked between Joe and the large knife that hovered near his chest.

"He's Arapaho, You know, an indian," Joe said with a condescending smile. "He's not in law enforcement and he doesn't give a shit about your rights, he just hates you cause you're a white man and white men stole his land."

Elan took a step closer to the man and the guy moved quickly behind Sam.

"You gotta protect me, man," the guy pleaded. "Please. Look at him. He's scary."

"I will if you tell me who hired you," Sam said reasonably.

"I don't know his name," the guy said. "He just emailed me and told me where and how much he would pay and an email address for where to send the photos."

Eric arrived and opened the laptop, quickly getting past the password and started examining all the emails. When he accessed the last one sent, the file rapidly began to disappear before he could track it.

"Crap!" Eric said. "Hey guys, this is familiar. This is the same thing that happened when I tried to trace the money Granger paid his tech guy. This has to be Faolan Boyle."

"You think Granger hired this punk to shoot pictures of Deeks' memorial service?" Sam looked stunned and angry. "How did he even know about it G?"

"He's got somebody on the inside still loyal to him," Callen said.

"Sam, take this guy to the boat shed and see if you can get anything more out of him," Callen ordered, shoving the photographer into Sam's arms.

"Can I take Elan with me?" Sam laughed as he saw the photographer cringe.

"I'll put on some war paint and we can really have some fun," Elan laughed.

"Hey, you speak English," the man said, sounding annoyed.

"No kidding, Einstein," Elan laughed.

"You use that angry indian bit very often?" Sam asked.

"Only when I think someone's stupid enough to buy into the stereotype," Elan said with a grin.

"Joe mentioned you were in Afghanistan," Sam said as the two men pushed the photographer toward Sam's Challenger.

"Army Rangers," Elan said. "You?"

"Navy SEAL," Sam answered.

The photographer started to sweat a little as he looked from one big man to the other and Callen couldn't help but smile and shake his head.

"Callen. Why would Granger want pictures of Deeks' memorial service?" Joe's eyes were wide with questions.

"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell gonna try and find out," he answered. "Eric, tell Hetty and Nell to meet us at Ops."

"What about Kensi?" Eric asked, causing both men to pause. "You know she'll figure out something's up if we all leave."

"And if I cut her out of this she'll be pissed and probably never forgive me," Callen said, his uncertainty plain to see.

"She deserves to be in on this Callen." Joe said calmly and Callen nodded, sending Eric running back down to the beach.

...

The team stood silently watching images of themselves flash across the big screen in Ops as Eric went through the photographer's laptop. There were multiple close-ups of each of them, especially of Kensi crying in George Atwood's arms and Callen turned to look at her, noticing the dark scowl that covered Kensi's face as she studied the pictures. All of them were angry, but it was the mysterious question as to why they'd been taken that intrigued them.

"Eric. Are you positive that disappearing email has the same electronic signature as Faolan Boyle used in Egypt?" Hetty asked sharply.

"Absolutely," he answered. "He covers his tracks well. I've been trying to track the location from the IP address, but nothing so far. The only thing I do know is that it didn't come from inside the country."

"I've let Director Vance know that he has a mole that's working with Granger," Hetty informed them. "Only an insider would have known about the memorial service."

"A mole could also account for why they haven't pinpointed his whereabouts yet," Sam said as he looked over at Callen, who hadn't seemed to hear what he'd just said.

"G, what are you thinking?" Sam asked, knowing that look on Callen's face.

"Why have photos taken?" Callen looked utterly confused by it. "Why would he want to see Deeks' memorial service? He hated him."

"He's a sick bastard, that's why," Kensi said angrily. "He wants to gloat."

But Callen stood shaking his head, his look introspective as he tried to work it all out in his mind.

"Maybe he wanted to confirm that Deeks is really dead," Nell reasoned.

Callen turned toward Kensi and their eyes locked.

"When we found Proczko's body and discovered those photos of Deeks, you said they could be fakes," Callen said.

"I still want to believe that, Callen," Kensi said softly. "I just don't want to believe he's dead."

"What if you're right, Kens?" Callen asked softly.

"What?" Kensi looked shocked and relieved at the same time that someone had finally agreed with her.

"What if they were fakes?" Callen looked at each person in turn as he spoke the words. "We were conditioned by the earlier photos to believe the same thing had happened to Deeks. We assumed he was dead, so we didn't examine the photographs closely. Sam, remember what Celina said on the beach about her father being capable of this kind of subterfuge? I think she was right. Eric, put all the photos of the bodies up on the screen, side by side."

"Eric, Joe and George are in the boat shed with Elan," Sam said quickly. "Cut the feed. They don't need to see those pictures."

Eric nodded and a few seconds later the horrific photos appeared. Callen moved in closer, staring at each in succession, finally asking Eric to enlarge the two of Deeks.

"In all the other photos, the bullet wounds are obvious and so is the blood," Callen pointed out. "But in the photos of Deeks, his arm is draped across his chest where the bullet holes would be."

"There's no blood, G," Sam said.

They all stood quietly, trying to let the possibility sink in. Kensi walked up to the screen and touched the image of Deeks in the shallow grave.

"It was this one that made you believe it," she said softly. "But I never wanted to."

"I don't think you ever did, Kensi," Sam said. "All of us just tried to convince you."

"I think Deeks is alive and I think Granger has him," Callen said. "I think he sent that guy to the club to threaten Deeks and convince him Proczko was after him and he shot him to make it a viable threat. He just didn't expect Joe to be there. After that we all concentrated on Proczko and Granger provided all the evidence we needed to believe the threat was coming from him."

"There's no solid proof that any of that is true, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, playing devil's advocate.

"Then let's find some," Callen answered, his face determined and his eyes intense. "Let's find Granger."

...


	18. Chapter 18

**Vengeance: Chapter 18**

...

He lay in the corner of the cell as the night imperceptibly lifted around him. Shivering with his never ending fever, he ran his hands over his shaved head, laughing silently at his own vanity about something so meaningless as a full head of hair. The cries of wild animals in the distance fused with his mood as the fierce, deep-seated anger he had always tried to control began to flame within him. He had been stripped bare of everything he thought made him who he was, or who he had been when he had a normal life. Now, he was alone, dead to all the people he cared about and who cared about him. Now, he had no reason to laugh, no reason to make jokes to deflect the mounting tension in the situation, no reason to tease anyone, to be sweet to anyone and smile at anyone in hopes that they might like him. No one liked him here and he suddenly laughed out loud, a haunting, sour laugh with no humor in it at all.

An image of his father slowly danced across his memories and he followed it with his mind, recalling the rage he had seen in his ever-darkening face. It had been unrelenting, his father's anger. It had infused his body until his muscles flexed with tension as he stood over him. It had been one of the worst nights of his life and it had been one of the best nights and he didn't think of it often, but now it seemed relevant. He pulled the memory closer, freeing it from the shadows where it hid most of the time. It was relevant because it had been the first time he could remember that he'd fought back against his father's violence. He had met his rage with his own and he still recalled how strong it had made him feel, how his rage had given him an inner sense of power he hadn't known he possessed. It had made him unpredictable and reckless. He hadn't cared about anything except resisting his father that night and although it had cost him in the end, he had come away with the realization that he could fight back. He had only been ten years old, but it was a turning point in their relationship. He never let his father beat him again without fighting back as hard as he was able. He didn't win any of those battles except the last one, but he wasn't sorry about losing them because he had resisted. And that's what he intended to do now. He intended to draw on his burning rage. He intended to resist. He intended to resist violently.

He could just make out the shape of the dead Afrikaner in the gray light now filtering down from the small window. He'd never killed anyone with his bare hands before. It was so intimate. He could still hear the man's strangled attempt to breathe and smell his sweat as he'd struggled to free himself. None of that had stopped him and he knew he had lost even more of himself by killing the man in that way. But now, he didn't care; now it didn't matter. He was alone and he knew he was going to die here. All he could do was resist. All he could do was fight back and kill as many of them as he could before they killed him and if he could manage to kill Jürgen, then he would die with the knowledge that he had sent the man to hell before him.

He eased his back slowly up the wall, panting with the effort, finally standing unsteadily before making his way across the cell. His hand skimmed along the side wall, helping him maintain his balance until he reached the bars. Working his way along them, his eyes searched for the bottle of water the guard had dropped last night. He desperately needed it because he knew the terrified boys probably wouldn't be coming back again. He finally spotted it near the man's feet and knelt down, stretching out his arm as far as he could through the bars, trying to reach the bottle. With all his effort, it stayed just inches from his fingers and he rested his head on the dirty concrete floor, trying to catch his breath.

"Sonofabitch."

He closed his eyes, trying to cool his anger at his inability to get to the water. When he opened them again he was staring at the dead Afrikaner's back and at the knife that was tucked neatly in his belt.

"That I can reach," he whispered as he pulled the knife free and stared at it, wondering why the man hadn't used it last night.

"Where the fuck am I going to hide the damn thing?" Then he laughed bitterly at his own nakedness.

The scraping of the metal door startled him and he grabbed the bars, pulling himself up on his feet and working his way along them until his back touched the right wall. He held the knife by his side, slightly behind the back of his leg as he waited.

"Fokol!" An Afrikaner guard stood staring down at the dead man and then searched the dimly lit cell for the prisoner until finally seeing him in the corner shadows.

"You doos! I'm gonna beat the shit outa you," the man said as he pulled the keys to the cell from his belt.

Deeks remembered the guy from the first day. He was big and he was mean and Deeks braced himself against the wall, waiting for the man to come to him. He felt nothing but cold hatred as he watched him enter the cell, his adrenaline surging as he stared at the oncoming guard. The man rushed him, going for his throat with his left hand as his right fist smashed into the side of his head. The punch stunned him and he felt his knees buckle, but the man's tight grip on his throat kept him upright. Before the guard could hit him again he brought the knife up, thrusting it upward into the center of his body with all the energy he had left, hoping to hit the heart. He heard the man gasp in his ear before he staggered back, his hands going to his chest as he tried to stop the blood and then he looked up at Deeks, the surprise in his eyes fading quickly as he collapsed to the floor.

Deeks wavered and could no longer stand, sliding down the wall, his breathing labored as he waited for the fog to clear from his mind. He stared at the dead man as his heart began to slow, his hands shaking as he gripped the bloody knife. He glanced over at the outside door and strained to hear if the man had come alone before his eyes settled on the open cell door and he swallowed hard as adrenaline began to pump through him once again. His mind filled with the possibilities and he tried to calm himself and think clearly. If there was a vehicle outside, he might actually be able to escape and the thought brought on a wave of dizziness.

"Get your shit together, man."

He looked at the dead guard at his feet and scrambled toward him, quickly unbuckling the man's belt, unzipping his jeans and pulling them off. The man was about his height, just thicker around the waist, but Deeks put the pants on anyway and cinched the belt tightly. He wasn't surprised the guard carried no weapon, but he knew his gun had to be somewhere and he struggled to his feet and worked his way toward the door. He blinked and shielded his eyes from the morning sun as he stumbled outside, searching for weapons and water. He found both on a blue wooden table just outside the metal door. He tried not to guzzle the water, but he couldn't help himself, downing first one bottle and then part of another, pouring half the second one over his head, relishing the feel of the water on his skin.

An old white Toyota pickup was parked a few feet away and he picked up the gun and limped toward it, his heart hammering in his ears. He finally smiled when he saw the keys were in it and the engine sprang to life as soon as he turned the key. His only problem was that he had no idea where he was or who to go to for help, but getting away from this place was his first order of business, so he gunned the engine and drove through the entrance, his bare feet pushing down hard on the accelerator as the thrill of finally being free made him flush with excitement.

The rough dirt road split at the top of a gentle rise and he paused to look around and try and get his bearings. The land was bleak, almost devoid of trees, but he could see what appeared to be a small town, low on the horizon and he wondered if that's where the boys lived. It was the only sign of civilization he saw so he turned the truck in that direction. He hadn't gotten far, when he heard the sound of powerful engines and looked behind him. A green Land Rover and another vehicle, the truck bed open to the sky were speeding toward him, raising a dusty trail of dirt. There were two armed men in the back of the truck and they began firing in his direction. He gunned the little Toyota and fishtailed in the dirt before righting it and pushing toward the distant town. He could see the Range Rover gaining rapidly and he knew it must be Jürgen. His heart pounded as he raced along the dirt road, bouncing haphazardly over the dips and rough patches, jarring his battered body. The Range Rover roared up on him, slamming into the side of the small truck and causing him to careen off the road and into the brush. He quickly turned and made it back onto the road, but the other truck came up next to him on the other side, the Afrikaners firing at the tires of the Toyota as he bounced along the road. He returned fire, unsure if he'd hit anyone as the truck veered away from him. When he looked back, the Range Rover was cutting in front of him and he yanked the wheel sharply to avoid it, spinning out in the dirt before the truck plowed into the side of the little pickup, leaving him sandwiched between the two vehicles. His engine died in the shower of dust and he stumbled out, firing at the Range Rover, trying to kill Jürgen before he was taken again. He heard the Afrikaners shouting to one another as they came at him fast, so he turned and fired point blank at the closest man, hitting him just below the throat before the others tackled him to the ground. Two men landed on top of him, their fists pounding him into submission until he was lying gasping in the dirt.

"Get off him," Jürgen's voice cut through the fog in his head and he looked up to see the angry face of his tormentor. Then he saw the blood on his arm and was instantly thrilled that one of his bullets had hit him.

"How's the arm feel, asshole?" He smiled as he looked up at him from the ground, rising up on one elbow, his body streaked with dirt.

Jürgen kicked him viciously in the head and he dropped senseless to the ground.

"Take him back," Jürgen said. "Keep him outside in the courtyard and don't do anything until I call you."

"Yes baas," the men said as they grabbed Deeks by the wrists and dragged him around to the back of their truck.

...

Deeks came to as the men tied course rope around each wrist as he lay on his back on the dusty concrete of the courtyard. He groaned deeply as his arms were pulled up above his head and his body dragged upward until he was hanging from the thick wooden post in the center of the yard. His arms were wrapped around the back of the pole and then the men began to crisscross the rope across his arms and his body like before, trussing him to the post as tightly as they could. When they got to his legs, he realized he was naked again and he suddenly began to fight them, kicking at the men until one choked him until he was barely conscious. When he regained his senses, his legs were wrapped tightly to the sides of the post and he almost couldn't breathe. The sun beat down on him in the increasing heat, causing sweat to coat his body from his efforts to resist. He looked for Jürgen and when he didn't see him, he began cursing in frustration at the men who surrounded him, his rage building at being a captive again and being trussed up and unable to move. He had no idea how long he ranted, but he could tell the men wanted badly to shut him up and hurt him, but were afraid to act because of their fear of Jürgen. He had just begun to berate them for that when he heard the Range Rover drive in and park and he became silent, waiting for what was to come.

Jürgen came into his line of sight, his arm freshly bandaged and the muscle in his jaw flexing with anger. He spoke sharply in German to one of the Afrikaners and the man moved quickly, entering the building and coming back carrying an old military rifle with a heavy wooden stock. Deeks tensed, wondering if this was the end of his journey. Jürgen took the rifle and turned back toward him, an unreadable look on his face.

"I underestimated you," he said. "I paid too much attention to Granger's opinion of you. He discounted you. He couldn't see inside you. He saw only the outside and some pale imitation of yourself that you projected to the world and that is probably why you bested him in your recent confrontation. Men like him never seem to understand the depth of rage that can simmer inside of a man. He didn't realize it was even there. Even after reading about your childhood battle with your father, he was blind to what that did to you. But, I understand. I lived it. I know what your father did to you and I can guess at what he did that isn't in those files. He tried to break you early, but he failed didn't he, my friend? He thought he was winning the battle to dominate you, to make you submissive, but he was only stoking the rage that he had caused. Now you have nothing left but that rage, and I won't forget that again."

Jürgen had walked slowly toward him as he spoke and stopped a few steps in front of him, his face a blank mask, his grey eyes deadly calm before he slammed the butt of the rifle down viciously on his bare ankle, breaking it. Deeks screamed as Jürgen moved around behind him and did the same to his right hand, smashing it against the post. Then Jürgen leaned the rifle against the post and came to stand in front of him. He lifted Deeks' head in his hands, leaned in close and spoke softly to him.

"I'm impressed you were able to kill three men after what we did to you," he whispered in his ear. "But you won't get the chance again."

He cradled Deeks' head on his shoulder as he hovered in a half-conscious haze, calmly stroking the back of his head.

"I am so much worse than your father," he said, almost gently. "And I will break you. I will break you slowly and completely until you beg me to kill you. And when I am allowed to kill you, it won't be a simple death, my friend."

"Fuck you, you crazy sonofabitch," Deeks mumbled.

Jürgen's hand closed over his throat, forcing his head back as he slapped him again and again until Deeks' nose and mouth ran with blood.

"No water until you apologize for calling me names," Jürgen said as he held his head against the post. "Keep resisting me and I will show you just how crazy I can be."

...

...

"She's afraid," Nell said softly behind him, startling Callen as he stared at Hetty sitting at her desk.

"Hetty? Afraid?" I don't think so." he replied, turning around with a quizzical look and a half smile.

"I brought you Wilhelm Jürgen's file," Nell said. "Not the complete file Hetty has, but enough so you'll know who we're dealing with."

"Is this the guy you believe Granger hired to kidnap Deeks?" Callen asked as he leafed through the file.

"He's a former Stasi agent that Hetty and Granger went up against on an assignment in East Germany in 1987," Nell told him. "Callen, this guy scares Hetty."

"And I thought the only person we had to watch out for was Granger." Callen sat down and studied the information Nell had gathered.

"She said he's a monster," Nell saw Callen's face suddenly change as he considered her comment.

"Who's a monster?" Sam asked as he came into the bullpen from the gym.

"The guy working for Granger," Callen said. "Nell, get everyone back up in Ops. We need to brief everyone on this guy."

Callen walked purposefully over to Hetty's desk and stood silently until she acknowledged him.

"Talk to me, Hetty," he said quietly. "Tell me about Wilhelm Jürgen."

"I didn't want to believe that Granger had fallen this far," she answered. "If Nell's research is right, and he is working with Wilhelm Jürgen then he has turned Mr. Deeks over to one of the most vicious Stasi agents I have ever known. His hatred of Mr. Deeks goes deeper than we thought, Mr. Callen. Granger knows exactly what this man is capable of. We both saw what Jürgen did to one of our fellow agents who'd been captured when we came up against him during an op in the eighties. He's a degenerate, Mr. Callen. So depraved even the Stasi finally cut him loose."

Callen had never seen Hetty quite this shaken and it made him anxious.

"We need to find him, Mr. Callen," Hetty said stridently. "And quickly. That sick bastard has already had Mr. Deeks for a week and that scares the hell out of me."

"Hetty, Joe Atwood talked to me after you told the family that we think Deeks is alive," Callen said. "He wants to help find him and get Granger and I think we can use him if you can work out the details with the FBI."

"I don't think that will be a problem, Mr. Callen," she said. "But we have to be careful. We have to play this close to the vest, with as few players knowing what we're up to as possible. If Granger finds out we think Mr. Deeks is alive, it will cost him his life for real, this time."

"Hetty, how bad is this for Deeks?" Callen asked.

"He's in hell, Mr. Callen," she answered. "And if we find him alive, he may not be the same man we once knew."

…


	19. Chapter 19

**Vengeance: Chapter 19**

...

Nell could sense Eric's anxiety after she'd briefed everyone on the intel she had on Wilhelm Jürgen. Afterwards, he became even more focused and intense than usual, refusing to take breaks or even eat as he searched every possible data bank trying to discover where Granger might be holding Deeks. She started to worry about him when he snapped unexpectedly at Callen after he asked what Eric perceived to be a "stupid" question, using that word without even thinking as he concentrated on his search. Callen had spoken his name quite loudly in response and Eric had become flustered and totally embarrassed when he realized what he'd said and to whom he'd said it. She went to search for him after Hetty had ordered him to take a break, finding him in the kitchen working on his tablet.

"Eric, I don't think that's what Hetty had in mind when she told you to rest," Nell said, quietly sitting down beside him at the table. He stopped working and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes before staring down at his tablet.

"Nell, I can't get this wrong," Eric said, his voice shaky and uncertain. "I just keep thinking about what Deeks is going through at the hands of that man and I feel responsible the longer it takes for me to find him."

"Eric, don't do this to yourself," Nell said firmly. "We'll find him."

"How, Nell?" He asked. "He could be anywhere and I've looked everywhere."

She hated seeing him so distraught, reaching out her hand to squeeze his arm as she tried to comfort him. She knew everyone was depending on them, expecting them to work some sort of tech magic and the stress was obviously getting to Eric. Deeks was a friend and a surfing buddy and he had been devastated when he thought he'd been killed and then totally elated when Callen had made them all believe he could still be alive. Now she could see the anguish his failure to find him was causing.

"Why don't we go over everything from the beginning," she said. "Maybe we missed something. I'll pull out all the intel I gathered on Granger and we'll start over."

"Thanks, Nell," he said. "I've been pissed off ever since I lost track of Faolan Boyle during that bank transfer in Cairo."

"I've been meaning to ask you about something that keeps bugging me," Nell said as they headed back up to Ops. "Did you ever mention the name Chula Vista in a briefing or something? That name is lodged in the back of my brain and I think it connects to something I found, but I'm not sure."

"Yeah. I think one of the photos that was sent to Lieutenant Bates came from an internet cafe in Chula Vista," he said and suddenly stopped. "Nell, we thought all those pictures were being sent by Proczko, but now we know he probably didn't send any of them."

"And if he didn't..." Nell began.

"Then Faolan Boyle did," Eric finished. "And he connects us to Granger and Jürgen."

The two techs almost ran Hetty down as they sprinted for the door to Ops.

"We might have something, Hetty," Eric shouted as he passed her.

Nell began to rapidly pull up all the intel she'd gathered on Granger and Jürgen, while Eric started searching for the reference to Chula Vista. It took them a minute to realize that everyone was standing behind them, anxiously waiting to see if they had found a lead. Nell glanced back, noting the tenseness in all of their faces before playing the last feed from the security camera at the small private airport in Chula Vista.

"I think this might be Wilhelm Jürgen," Nell said, still a little unsure since the image was a blurry one.

"Look at this," Eric said, his voice lively once again. "It's a police report on a fire inside one of the hangers at the airport the morning after Deeks disappeared. It almost destroyed the entire hanger. The investigation uncovered a burned out vehicle with the remains of two bodies inside."

"Did they ID the victims?" Sam asked.

"They needed dental records to do it," Eric answered as he put a man's mug shot up on the big screen. "His name is Dennis Stiles. He was an independent enforcer for a couple of local drug cartels. Arrested, but never convicted of a couple of murders."

"Hired himself out to anybody who needed something unpleasant taken care of," Nell added.

"Apparently, he was the owner of the van that caught fire," Eric said, typing furiously on his keyboard and then stopping instantly when the forensics came up. "Guys, he died from a bullet wound to the head."

"And the other guy?" Callen asked, his eyes intense.

"Chano Garza," Eric said as the man's face appeared next to Stiles' image. "He has a long rap sheet and worked in LA for the Araña Negra Cartel out of Mexico. Also died of bullet wounds."

"Wilhelm Jürgen was caught on a security camera in Mexico City a couple of weeks ago," Nell pointed out quietly.

"Eric, was there security footage of vehicles leaving the garage by the airport where Deeks was taken?" Hetty asked.

"No, sorry, Hetty," Eric answered. "The cameras at the garage had been disabled."

"What about the plane that was in the hanger in Chula Vista?" Kensi asked. "Can you find out who the owner is and where it went?"

"On it," Eric answered.

"There's still nothing to connect the two crime scenes," Sam said. "There's no evidence that Deeks was taken to Chula Vista."

"It's the only lead we have, Sam," Callen said wearily. "And if that's Jürgen, then we have to assume that Deeks was there too and was on that plane when it flew out. Two dead guys with ties to a Mexican drug cartel that Jürgen might have used as muscle sure sounds like someone trying to cover their tracks."

"Seems like killing those two was a mistake to me," Sam said softly.

"I think you're right Sam," Callen answered.

"Track that plane, Mr. Beale," Hetty said as she headed out of Ops. "I'm going to check with Director Vance to see if they've made any progress on finding Granger's mole."

...

Joe stopped when he saw the photo of Deeks and his dad on a desk next to Sam and he had to steady himself as his eyes blurred with sudden tears. He had just lived through one of the toughest emotional weeks of his life and now everything he had come to accept had been turned upside down. He found he was angry with Callen and the rest of them. How had they not discovered that Marty was alive sooner? It was just dumb luck they'd found out at all and it had him shit-kickin' mad. It was shoddy investigating and it was inexcusable as far as he was concerned. He'd seen the confusion on his father's face when Callen had told them they had reason to believe that Marty was still alive. He'd wanted to punch Callen smack in the face and probably would have if Elan hadn't given him a warning look. At that moment he'd had the intense desire to rip that cute little boat shed apart, his angry reaction similar to what he'd felt when he'd gotten the news about his brother Chris being killed in Iraq. He'd acted on his feelings that time, tearing up a local bar and threatening to shoot anyone who came near him. The cops had called Elan and he'd just walked up to him and knocked him out. He'd spent a few days in jail and a couple of thousand bucks before he could deal with his pain more calmly. Now, when he should be happy, all he felt was anger.

Hetty had briefed him about Wilhelm Jürgen and the thought of Marty at the mercy of that animal had made him seethe with mind-numbing fury and she had seen it on his face, telling him if he couldn't keep his anger under control then he couldn't join the team. That had sobered him and he had calmed down, at least somewhat, but seeing that picture of Marty so carefree and happy tore at his gut, making him barely able to control himself.

"The gym is down the hall," Sam said from his desk. "If you need to punch something, the big bag is free right now."

"That obvious, huh?" He managed to say.

"You think you're the only one pissed off?" Sam asked as Joe looked over at him. "Get in line, Joe. All of us are pissed we got fooled by those bastards and finding Deeks is the only thing on our minds. That and killing Granger and Jürgen. So if you need an outlet for what you're feeling, take it out on the equipment, cause if you try to take it out on one of us, you're gonna find your hands full and you better have insurance."

Sam walked off leaving him feeling chastised and a little relieved to know that they all felt as angry as he did and glad that he hadn't taken a swing at the big man.

"Joe? I'm happy you're here." Kensi's voice was soft and he turned to see the pain and turmoil in her eyes and he immediately wrapped her in a hug.

"How you doing, kiddo?" Joe asked as he leaned back to look at her.

"You and Deeks and your nicknames," She said with a smile.

"His are better than mine," he said. "I remember the first time he called you Wonder Woman. You were still in the hospital fighting for your life."

"Now he's fighting for his," she whispered, choking on the words. "At least, I hope he is."

"If he's alive Kensi, then he's fighting." Joe said firmly and she nodded.

"How's your dad?" She asked.

"He's scared," Joe answered. "He and Elan flew home this morning. He said he needed to be around familiar things and to be with the dogs and horses. They keep him grounded. Kensi, he just kept turning that old straw cowboy hat of Marty's over and over in his hands and staring at it. Not knowing where he is or what kind of shape he's in is killing my dad."

"Me too," Kensi said.

"I'm sorry, Kensi. I know how hard this is for you," Joe said. "How you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Kensi said, her eyes flashing with the determination to be strong. "We have to find him fast, Joe."

"Any new leads?" Joe asked, knowing both wanted to get on with the search.

"Eric's tracking a plane we think took Deeks out of the country," she said.

"Why do you think he's being held out of the country?" Joe asked with concern.

"Nell has had glimpses of Granger in Europe and Egypt, and it makes all of them harder to find," she said as they headed up to Ops. "Especially if they're keeping him in an isolated place, which we assume they are."

"Joe," Callen greeted him when they entered Ops. "You got it together? Sam says you look like you want to punch somebody."

"I wanted to knock the shit out of you a few minutes ago," Joe smiled. "But, your partner discouraged me. Now, what have you got?" His smile disappeared as he spoke.

"Eric?" Callen said with a smirk as the two agents stared at each other.

"Still looking for the plane, but I found a connection between the crime scenes," Eric said as he worked his tablet, finally putting several images up on the big screen.

"I looked up the vehicle registered to Dennis Stiles and found this blue van," Eric said. "Probably the one that was torched in Chula Vista. Then I hacked into the backlog on all traffic cams in the area around the garage by LAX for the night Deeks disappeared and it showed up two blocks away. I was able to track it up on the freeway as it headed south."

"All the way to Chula Vista?" Sam asked.

"With one stop in Santa Ana," Eric answered. "I lost it for a couple of hours, but kept searching the backlog for that night and it popped up on I-5 just north of San Diego. Then I found it again as it took an off ramp into Chula Vista."

"Not bad, Beale," Nell said. She knew how relieved he was to finally be able to find something that would help. Then they both jumped as they heard the sound of an updated alert. Both techs leaned over Eric's computer as his research on the tail number of the corporate jet showed that it had been on the ground in Rio de Janeiro.

"That particular Gulfstream 450 refueled in Rio and filed a flight plan for Johannesburg, South Africa," Eric said quietly after taking a deep breath.

The team stood stunned into silence at the news that they finally had a location on Jürgen and Granger and more importantly a starting point in their search for Deeks. Kensi suddenly let out a small gasp and started shaking and Sam quickly wrapped his arm around her, the tension finally getting to all of them.

"Wait guys," Eric said. "The final destination was modified."

"To where, Eric?" Callen asked with concern.

"The pilot requested permission to land in Polokwane, Limpopo, South Africa," Eric stated. "Due to an ill passenger on board."

"Mr. Deeks, we have found you," Hetty said for all of them.

"Almost, Hetty. Almost," Callen said. "Eric, put up a map of South Africa."

"Mr. Callen, the Force Protection Detachment in Cape Town should be able to assist us," Hetty reminded him. "I'll make a call and get you contact information. Eric, arrange for transportation and Nell get us a flight plan that will get the team there as fast as possible."

"Get us to Johannesburg, Nell," Callen said as he stood in front of the map. "Have the FPD man meet us there, Hetty. We'll drive the rest of the way. Polokwane is too small for us not to be noticed if we were to fly in there. Granger might have people on the look out for anything out of the ordinary and maybe us in particular. He won't want to take it for granted that we were fooled."

"I'll give the Director our new info," Hetty said. "He'll want his special team to focus their search for Granger in South Africa."

"Wait Hetty," Callen said, quickly turning to face her. "If they screw up and Granger gets tipped off before we get to Deeks, he'll move him, or worse, he'll kill him."

Hetty took her time considering his concern, looking around at each member of the team and noting just how apprehensive they all were.

"You're right, Mr. Callen," she said finally. "Mr. Deeks is our top priority."

...

...

He couldn't stop shivering, even as the sun beat down on him unmercifully. He had no idea how long it had been since Jürgen had left him in the courtyard, but he knew he was alone now, the throbbing pain in his broken hand and ankle the only thing keeping him conscious.

"Fuck!"

His head swam with dizziness when he loudly shouted out his frustration. He couldn't focus, he couldn't think straight and he longed for one drink of water, laughing suddenly as an image of the crashing surf in Malibu filled his mind, his body trembling at the remembered feel of the cold water on his body as he sank beneath the waves.

He ran his tongue over his cracked lips, encrusted with dried blood and he wondered if he should have apologized so he could have gotten a drink of water. He needed it so desperately, now. It was the only thing he could think about as he tried to swallow, his throat dry and painful in his attempt. He didn't want to give in, but he did want to survive as long as he could. Didn't he? Why? Everyone thought he was dead, so what did it matter. No one was coming to rescue him and all he had to look forward to was more pain, more torture, more visits from that sick bastard Jürgen with his whispers of what was to come and the unsettling feel of his possessive hands as they moved over his naked body. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated Jurgen and he didn't want to give in to him even if it meant more suffering. He had to resist. He had to resist for some reason, but he was having trouble remembering why. God, the sun was hot.

His head jerked back and he realized he'd passed out. The sun was lower in the sky, so he knew he'd been out for a while. He heard his own voice groan as he tried to adjust his position and a sudden, sparkling pain in his broken ankle sharpened his mind briefly, but not for long. His mind began to drift and he mumbled incoherently as he suffered through wave after wave of fevered shivering. The sound of an approaching car on the gravel road in front caught his attention and his muscles tensed as he held his breath. He heard the solid footsteps approaching and warm tears seeped out of his closed eyes and streaked down his face and he silently cursed his own weakness. He lifted his head when he heard the footsteps stop in front of him, slowly opening his eyes as Jurgen's hand came to rest on the side of his neck, his thumb brushing one of his tears away.

"You don't look well, my friend," he said, almost sounding like he cared, before stepping back to allow one of the Afrikaners to push the black rubber gag into his mouth.

Deeks couldn't stop a moan from escaping as the man tightened the vicious thing. He'd wanted to curse the man in front of him, but a deep fear had stopped him, and now the gag took away his voice and he closed his eyes and waited for Granger to come. He felt Jürgen's hands on him, stroking his neck and then his arms and his chest, making him cringe as he listened to his hitched breathing, and tensing as the man's hands slipped down his body and settled on his ribs and he prepared for more pain.

"Do you know how long you've been here?" Jürgen asked softly. "You've been my captive for seven days, my friend, and you have been bound to this post in the hot sun for almost nine hours. Have you lost the will to resist yet? Has the sun and the constant pain sapped all of your physical strength? Your skin is clammy, now. I can feel it. The sun is draining you. You need water. You want water, don't you? Just nod your head and I will take that as your apology for calling me dirty names. Give in and when Granger leaves I promise you will have water."

The more Jürgen talked to him in that soothing, wheedling, seducing voice of his, the more Deeks' anger grew. He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to look at the smug triumph in his torturer's eyes. His breathing became even shallower as he tried to wait him out, but the man had no patience and his thumbs found the cracks in his ribs, grunting with pleasure at each muffled scream of his prisoner.

A sharp slap brought him back to consciousness and another, from an unfamiliar hand, made him open his eyes. Granger stood very close to him, a dark smile just visible on his face in the fading light of the day.

"I brought you some more pictures, Detective." Granger's smirk more irritating then he remembered.

Deeks dropped his head, unwilling to participate in any more of their sick games, but Granger wanted his full attention and he felt Jürgen's hand close around his chin and lift his head. He closed his eyes in protest, but Jürgen only laughed, reaching for Deeks' broken hand, pressing a thumb deeply into his palm until he screamed and opened his eyes.

"Don't turn away from me again, Deeks," Granger said menacingly. "Don't you want to see your own memorial service and your friends and lover one last time?"

Granger took the tablet from his assistant, and photo after photo passed before his eyes as Jürgen continued to put pressure of his broken hand and fingers. He tried to catch his breath as he saw Kensi crying in George's arms, Callen and Sam consoling Hetty and Joe looking angry and sad at the same time. The large number of people who came to pay their respects surprised him and he felt his chest tighten as he saw a picture of Pete and Celina talking with Lieutenant Bates and a group of detectives and undercover cops from the LAPD. If he hadn't been gagged, he would have thanked Granger for giving him a chance to see his friends and the team's faces one last time and to say goodbye in his mind, especially to Kensi.

"They're moving on with their lives now, Deeks," Granger said softly. "Soon, they won't even remember you. They'll assign a new agent to Kensi and she'll realize what a poor partner you really were. You know the old saying, 'out of sight, out of mind'. You're almost not worth all the effort I went through to punish you, but I just couldn't let you get the better of me. And seeing you like this, rank and filthy, your body bloody and covered in bruises, crying in pain, trussed up like the worthless pig you are. Well, I have enjoyed that."

"Don't you want to participate in some of his punishment?" Jürgen asked Granger, coming around to stand next to him. "Or don't want to get your hands dirty?"

"That's your job, Jürgen," Granger said with a hint of malice. "You always did get off on this kind of thing. You can keep him a couple of more days, but after that I have business and I want this done with, so come up with some imaginative way to end his sorry life and give me a call. I wouldn't want to miss it."

Granger smiled darkly at Deeks before striding off. The Afrikaners left soon after the last one had removed the hated gag and Deeks waited for Jürgen to follow, but he didn't. As the heavy night began to close around him, Deeks could hear him walking, slowly circling him, the sharp smell of tobacco hanging in the air. Finally he stopped some distance away, the sudden glow of his cigarette the only indication he was still there, waiting in the dark. Deeks struggled to stay conscious, exhaustion dragging at him, but he was afraid to close his eyes while Jürgen was still there. The muscles in his abdomen began to quiver with tension and fear as Jürgen moved toward him in the deepening darkness, his smile thin as he came closer, finally discarding his cigarette as his eyes roamed over his prisoner's body and his hand reached out and touched him.

"Say you're sorry," he said quietly.

"No."

...


	20. Chapter 20

**Vengeance: Chapter 20**

...

"They're in the air Hetty," Nell said quietly, setting down the filing box she'd asked for.

"Thank you, Nell," Hetty replied, sighing deeply as she gathered herself.

It was almost eight o'clock and the day had been emotionally draining. She knew neither tech had any intention of going home, and she was glad for the company. There was still so much to do before the team touched down in Johannesburg in fourteen or fifteen hours and Hetty had wanted them fresh and ready to go when they hit the ground, so she had called in a favor from an old friend whose business took him around the world. He had gladly offered her team the use of his G550 long-range corporate jet for as long as they needed it. The plane was equipped with a crew of three, all former military pilots, a small kitchen, reclining leather seats, a satellite communication system and most importantly, a bedroom. They all knew that if they did find Deeks alive, he would be in desperate shape, so Hetty had assigned an emergency medical team to accompany them as well, and a bed would be needed to comfortably transport him to a secure medical facility. She had no intention of keeping him in South Africa any longer than was necessary, especially if Granger was still at large at the end of the rescue operation.

"Was there something specific you were looking for in Deeks' belongings?" Nell asked. "I was the one who cleared out his desk, so I might be able to help."

"I'm interested to see if he kept a particular person's business card," Hetty said as she cut the sealing tape with her letter opener and pulled off the top of the file box.

It saddened her to see how few personal items he had kept in his desk. He was a little like Callen in that regard, having almost no tangible reminders of his childhood and not prone to keeping mementos just for the sake of it. One of the few photos found had been one of him and George in Wyoming and Nell had framed it and left it on his desk, unwilling to let him go or be forgotten. She assumed he had others at his apartment, but no one had had the energy to clear that out yet and she wasn't sure if Kensi would have allowed it. Now, she was hoping no one would have to.

Nell lifted a few items and reached into the bottom, drawing out a small stack of cards held together by a blue rubber band.

"He was a lot tidier than I expected," Nell said with a small smile.

"Thank you, Miss Jones," she said formally, letting Nell know her presence was no longer required.

Hetty searched through the small stack of business cards until she came to the one she sought. She had kept a sharp eye on Deeks after the Senate hearings and had watched closely as the CIA representative who had testified approached him. She hadn't needed to hear what they were saying to know there was an offer on the table for his services and she had seen Deeks pocket the man's card after he had disappeared. Now she held that card in her hand and debated with herself once again if calling the man was wise. She did not know him personally, but she had asked a close friend at Langley about him and discovered he was highly regarded. They needed intel on the ground in Johannesburg, but she was unwilling to go through official channels, afraid if there was a breach, it might cost Deeks his life. She knew this CIA agent had extensive contacts throughout the world and might possibly have a man in Johannesburg. She also knew Leon Vance was going to be furious with her for not apprising him of their rescue operation and for enlisting the help of the CIA especially by back channels, but at the moment she didn't give a damn. She picked up the phone and made the call.

"Mr. Foster? Hetty Lange."

"What do you need, Miss Lange?"

"An operative in Johannesburg, Mr. Foster."

"Why?"

"To help us recover my agent, Marty Deeks."

"He's alive?" The tenor of Foster's voice changed and she could almost hear his mind engage.

"We believe he is being held outside Polokwane, Limpopo, South Africa," she said, and took a deep breath, knowing she had just revealed the most sensitive of information to a man she had only seen in passing.

"By who?"

"By a former Stasi agent hired by Owen Granger."

"What's his name?"

"Wilhelm Jürgen." The name was bitter on her lips and she heard a slight intake of breath on the other end of the line.

"How long has he had him?" Foster asked slowly.

"Seven days."

"And you think he's still alive?" The surprise in his voice doing nothing for her confidence.

"I'll believe it until proven otherwise," she answered. "But, alive or dead I want to bring him home, Mr. Foster. He deserves that."

"Tell me how I can help," Foster said.

"Granger is using the name Jonathan Roark," Hetty began. "We believe he's in Johannesburg. If you can find him, I need you to discover his movements over the last week and let me know what locations he went to on a regular basis."

"He's got a mole inside NCIS," Foster stated flatly. "That's why you called me."

"Yes, among other reasons."

"This op is off the books," Foster said with a small laugh.

"Will you do it?"

"I tried to recruit Deeks after the hearing," Foster said.

"I know, I found your card in his desk," Hetty said. "Are you in, Mr. Foster?"

"He's a good man. I'll text you a different contact number and an encrypted email address for your intel," he replied. "Use the name Stephen whenever you contact me."

"And you can call me Susanna." Her light laugh was echoed on the other end before he broke the connection.

She'd had no need to tell him that time was critical. His subtle intake of breath at the mention of Jürgen's name had signaled that he knew just what kind of man had his hands on Deeks. She would have Nell find out just how he knew that. She always wanted to have as much intel as she could get on the people she worked with, but she had a gut feeling that Foster somehow had a personal stake in finding Jürgen and quite possibly Granger, and she wanted to know why.

...

...

"Care to reconsider your answer, my friend?" Jürgen whispered in his ear as his hands closed ever tighter around his prisoner's throat. He could feel his body struggling against him and against the ropes that held him as he fought for one more breath so he could live for one more minute. When he felt his body go limp, he allowed the prisoner's head to drop onto his shoulder, easing his grip until he heard him draw in a strangled bit of air. The young man's face was wet with blood and tears from their private duel and he began to admire him just a little for holding out for so long. It was rare. But, he didn't like to be resisted and he didn't want to kill him until he apologized, so their brutal dance would continue until the prisoner begged him for water or for forgiveness or just for him to stop.

He really wished there was a moon tonight so he could see his face, maybe even get him to open his eyes so he could see the terror in those soft blue eyes that entranced him. He lifted his head and watched as he panted in pain, then he slapped him hard across his bloody left eye and saw him suddenly staring back at him, not with terror, but with pure hatred and it made him laugh.

"Why do you fight so hard, my friend?" he asked, taking a step back into the darkness, his voice the only part of him the prisoner could feel.

"Your father made you hate, didn't he?" The voice asked from out of the dark. "I hated mine. We have that in common. There can be no love between a father and a son. One is always seeking dominance over the other. You only wounded your father, but I killed mine. Would you like to know how?"

He moved silently forward until his body was pressed against the prisoner, his mouth moving against his ear as he stroked his chest. He could feel the prisoner holding his breath as he slid his other hand up his arm toward his broken fingers. He caressed them, feeling the broken bones as he told him what he had done to his father. He felt his tears against his cheek as he moaned and panted through the pain and the horror of his words and he knew he was close to breaking.

"You never knew love from your father either," he told him. "It's why we hate."

"You're wrong," the prisoner gasped out.

He pushed away from him, suddenly rigid at the rejection in his words.

"Your father didn't love you," his voice lashed out callously from the shadows.

"I found a real father," he whispered. "One who loves me."

"You're lying," the voice snarled.

"He's a good man," he murmured as if talking to himself.

"Then he didn't have a father like we had," the voice said defiantly.

"Yes he did, but that didn't make him hate anyone," he stammered. "It just made him understand other people's pain."

"You're lying. Who is he? What's his name?"

"You think I'd tell you?" An amazed smile suddenly lit the prisoner's face. "You're not worthy, my friend."

The sarcasm in his voice forced him to strike him again and again until he sagged unconscious against the tight ropes that held him.

"I'll be back tomorrow night," he told the unknowing prisoner as he walked away, his anger barely contained. "I'll make you tell me then."

...

He tried to open his eyes, but the brilliance of the noon sun made it too painful. His whole body was quivering in the heat, his mind lost in delirium from the constant pain and his unrelenting thirst. He babbled names, crying them out, but there was no one there to hear them. He was alone in his agony, his mind floating between what was happening to him and the places that had once brought him comfort. He laughed hysterically when his mind filled with an image of snow falling as his body burned in the overheated air, a man and a horse walking through the snow, taunting him with an icy peace his body couldn't feel.

"George?"

The name came out in a desperate cry, causing the tiny flies to leave him for a few seconds before settling back on the blood that had crusted around his nose and mouth. He opened his eyes as far as the swelling would allow, but everything was blurry and clouded so he closed them again. His mind played tricks on him and he murmured softly as a beautiful woman wandered through a passing daydream, seducing him with her beauty. A deep longing washed over him, while sweet memories and bitter regret devoured him as he whispered her name.

"Kensi...I didn't mean to leave you. Please forgive me, Kens...please."

Then he tried to move. He screamed at the throbbing pain that exploded through his body and a few tears escaped his swollen eyes as he pleaded for water and then for help and then for it all to end.

"Just kill me you sonofabitch!"

He shouted out the words and was left panting at the effort, his ribs pulsing with dull pain as he tried to take a breath. Dark recollections of last night's terror made him shivered uncontrollably as his torturer's words replayed over and over in his head, the haunting images he'd shared of blood and knives and awful screams made him shake his head to try and banish them.

He felt someone touch him and he went rigid with fear.

"No, please," he groaned. "No more. Just kill me, please...Just kill me."

Then he waited for the hated touch of the hands he had become so familiar with as his head hung limply in defeat.

"Deeks," a little boy's voice cut through his hazy mind and he opened his eyes.

Thuso and Dikobo stood looking up at him, their eyes huge and full of tears as they stared back at him, their faces stunned by what they saw. He realized they weren't alone and he panicked, worried that the Afrikaners were there and would try and hurt them.

"Run, Thuso," he gasped out. "Dikobo, they'll catch you...run!"

He became frantic when the two boys moved even closer, exhorting them again and again to run, but Dikobo stood silently patting his leg as he wiped tears away with the back of his hand.

"Shhhh, shhh," a woman's kind voice said softly as she came to stand by his side. "We will not hurt you as the Afrikaners have."

When warm hands gently lifted his head, he saw a large black woman with concern on her face, looking at him with kind eyes, shushing him and softly patting his cheek, making him feel like a child. She began to give orders and he found himself surrounded by a group of men who began cutting the ropes away, carefully unwrapping his body from the hard post he had been tied to for almost two days. The sudden release sent shockwaves through his body and he cried out and slumped toward the ground, but was immediately cushioned and held in the arms of several men. They gently lowered him onto a blanket and covered his body with a light sheet, all the time talking to each other in the soft language the boys spoke. The sound calmed him as he slipped in and out of consciousness, mumbling names. Someone lifted and cradled his head and dripped water onto his cracked lips and he struggled to take in more, his thirst raging at the taste of the water. They gave him a little at a time, pouring some over his face, before the men surrounded him and lifted him in the blanket, carrying him away from the hated prison as tears slipped slowly down his cheeks. Thuso and Dikobo walked on either side of him, the younger boy taking his good hand, while Dikobo held a green umbrella over him, blocking out the beating sun. He felt as if he were floating as he swung back and forth in the improvised litter as they moved along the dirt road, the quiet talk of his liberators finally lulling him to sleep.

...

...

The team stepped out of the plane into a South African summer heat wave. When the pilots had heard the purpose of their mission, they had pushed the jet to its limits and they were on the ground in less than fourteen hours. Even as the sun was setting, the heat was oppressive as Callen searched for Rob McDonald, the man from the Force Protection Detachment in Cape Town who was to meet them at the private hanger Hetty had arranged. He finally saw him as he stepped out of a battered Range Rover, hurrying toward them, but stopping and looking flustered as he stooped to pick up several items and a file folder he had dropped in his haste to reach them.

"Great, we get Goofy while Granger has a Stasi agent," Sam said, already irritated with their liaison before even meeting him.

"At least give him a chance, Sam," Callen cautioned. "He may turn into Hong Kong Phooey."

"Yeah, right," Sam said, shaking his head.

Joe looked slightly pissed as well, and no one would look at Kensi. None of them had slept well and the jet lag and incessant heat wasn't helping their mood. They still had no firm lead on where Deeks was being held, but Hetty had told them to expect intel from a source when they reached their hotel.

"This guy isn't the secret agent man Hetty was talking about is he?" Joe asked as the man finally stopped in front of them.

"Mack McDonald, FPD, Cape Town," he said smiling broadly as he stuck his hand out, getting simple nods in return and the man blushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm new. Not sure of the protocol."

"Have you arranged transportation for us to Polokwane?" Callen asked.

"I thought you were staying here in Johannesburg," Mack said looking confused. "I mean, Polokwane is three and a half hours away and it's after eight. I've booked rooms at a very nice hotel here in the city and you can get an early start in the morning."

"Do you even know why we're here?" A pissed off Sam asked, taking a menacing step toward the flustered man.

"Something about picking up a colleague?" he asked, his face hopeful.

"Listen you shithead..." Joe began before Callen cut him off.

"Our pilots can use the rooms," Callen told him. "But the team and our two EMTs are going to Polokwane tonight."

Kensi walked in between the angry team members and the liaison holding up her phone, a photo of a smiling Deeks beaming out.

"This is Agent Marty Deeks," she said softly. "He was kidnapped, beaten and is now being held prisoner somewhere around Polokwane. The men who did that have been holding him for eight days and during that time he has probably been tortured. He is not a 'colleague', he's a close friend, a brother and the man I love, so if there is anyway you can help us get to him before they kill him, we will be forever grateful."

The man had become very still as she spoke, his eyes never leaving her face. When she finished, he looked at each person in turn before calmly taking out a phone.

"Change of plans," he said into the phone. "Tell them to prepare the apartment in Polokwane for immediate occupancy. No date of departure until you hear from me. Have the Range Rover waiting at The Parktonian."

"Thank you, Mr. McDonald," Kensi said quietly.

"Please call me Mack. Look, I'm sorry, but no one briefed me. I shouldn't have assumed though and done my homework. I apologize," the chastened man said. "I know what it's like to have someone you care about in danger. Now, if you want to load your gear, I'll drive you to the hotel."

Sam and Callen exchanged looks and then Sam shrugged and started hauling gear while Mack McDonald continually typed on his tablet. When the team was ready, he silently drove them to the hotel in the northern part of the city where another man waited with the team's new vehicle, a large, dark brown Range Rover.

"Mr. Callen, you have a message waiting for you at the front desk under the name of Mr. Carl," Mack said quietly and Callen quickly headed inside, returning with a small note.

"What's it say, G?" Sam and the others climbed into the truck waiting to hear if they had the intel they needed.

"'Seek and ye shall find' and a cell number. It's signed Jeanie," Callen answered.

"I was asked to give you this encrypted phone, Mr. Callen," Mack said.

"By who?" Sam questioned, still not warming to the man.

"I believe she said her name was Hetty," Mack said innocently. "Are we ready to hit the road?"

"We?" Sam asked.

"It's dark, as you've probably noticed and unless you know Polokwane, it'll be faster for me to show you the way to the apartment," Mack said with a nervous grin as he got back in his car and started the engine. "Try and keep up."

"What did he just say to me, G?" Sam asked as he gunned the engine of the truck.

"Kind of annoying, isn't he." Callen said. "Remind you of anyone?"

The FPD man pulled out into traffic and floored it. Sam had to burn a little rubber just to keep up with the man, his jaw clinched in irritation as they hit the main highway, speeding north. Callen called the number on the slip of paper and was answered on the first ring.

"Jonathan Roark has gone repeatedly to several locations around Polokwane in the last seven days," a woman's voice said. "None of which have an address. I did follow him over the last twelve hours, but wasn't able to keep a close tail, the area was too remote. I assumed you didn't want me to be spotted, but I tagged his car and will send the coordinates of the three locations that I know of to your phone."

Then the call ended without a goodbye or a chance to ask questions and Callen almost threw the phone out the window he was so frustrated. He stared at the coordinates and shook his head.

"We have to pick one of these," he said. "And if we choose wrong it could alert Granger that we're here."

"Maybe Goofy has some idea where these places are," Joe said.

No one answered and the rest of the trip was made in almost complete silence, except for an occasional grunt and sour comment from Sam as the liaison changed highways at a high rate of speed. He did slow down considerably when they entered Polokwane, leading them through a residential neighborhood before finally opening an electric gate and pulling into the enclosed courtyard of a modern house with a two-car garage. Mack quickly opened up the house and was setting out bottles of water when the team entered. The two EMTs began organizing their equipment and supplies while the others gathered in the living room waiting for Callen's game plan.

"We have coordinates for three different locations where they might be keeping Deeks," Callen said. "We can't hit them all, so we have to pick the most likely one."

"We could split up," Kensi said.

"Too dangerous, Kens," Callen shook his head. "Granger's bound to have him well guarded and if he's gone to all this trouble, he's not giving him up without a fight."

"I can help," Mack said, coming in from the kitchen. "Follow me into the communications room and I'll plot the coordinates on the computer."

"When were you planning on sharing that little tidbit, goofball?" Joe asked gruffly.

"Sorry. They don't let me out in the field much," he said sheepishly.

"No kidding," Sam said.

Mack led them to a room crammed with the latest computers, complete with satellite communications and a smart board. He immediately pulled up a satellite map of the area and started logging in the coordinates. While everyone stared at the map, he was searching intel and Callen saw Kensi slowly begin to smile.

"He's like a combination of Eric and Deeks," she whispered.

"What?" He smiled as he typed. "This is what I usually do. The guy who was supposed to be your contact was gored by a Rhino this afternoon."

"You're shittin' me," Joe said. "Is he still alive?"

"You're kidding, right?" Mack asked. "Wait. I think I've got something. There are a few abandoned prisons in this region left over from Apartheid. This set of coordinates is the site of one. It would be the ideal place to hold someone. It's isolated and the locals won't go near it. Too many bad memories."

"Makes sense, G," Sam said.

"How far?" Callen asked.

"About an hour and a half," Mack answered.

The four people immediately headed back toward the living room and when Mack followed them in they were gearing up, putting on vests and prepping an array of weapons.

"You're going now?" he asked.

"We need to get Deeks away from those bastards," Joe said. "And darkness means good cover."

...


	21. Chapter 21

**Vengeance: Chapter 21**

...

"Kensi...!"

He roared awake fighting only in his mind, his body not able to sustain the effort to rise and run. The darkness, full of terror and vicious memories of the pain that lived in the darkest part of the shadows terrorized him and he cried out her name and the names of others he thought he remembered. Hands were on him and he hated the touch of their insistent hands so he tried to push them away, but he heard only laughter, musical and soft and kind so he accepted their ministrations, having no energy to resist. He felt cool water being poured over his skin, easing the heat that simmered unabated, mingling with stinging pain and he drifted, no longer aware of what was happening.

"Ssshhhhh," the voices whispered over and over along with his name. "Sshhh, Deeks."

The four women used their softest cloth to gently clean his wounds, washing away the dirt and the blood from his body, careful not to hurt him, each chastising whoever caused him to cry out. They spoke in soft tones and shushed him when he yelled a name too loudly, knowing that the effort was hard on him. They had laid him on a colorful bed and helped him drink as often as they felt was good for him, but he still mumbled incoherently and his skin still burned with heat from within as well as from what the sun had done to him. They were afraid to touch his broken hand, but placed it in a plastic basin of cool water to cleanse it and ease some of the pain. His broken ankle was badly swollen and dark with bruising and no one touched it. Thuso's mother was the one who cradled his head and dripped water between his swollen lips and she took great care as she cleaned the dried blood from around his eyes and mouth, finally seeing his humanity appear through the sweat and grime that had covered him, bringing a small smile to the face of her youngest son. The two boys would not leave, watching the women as they cared for him. They repeated the words and names he murmured as he shivered in his delirium, feeling possessive of the man they had found and whom they had finally told their parents about.

The bruises she had discovered on her son's face two days ago had infuriated the woman, and she had demanded to know who had hurt him. When he told her it was Afrikaners, she had become frightened and called her husband and Dikobo's parents to come and listen to his story. When the boys told about the white man tied so cruelly in the cell of the old prison, men were sent to watch, reporting back on what was being done to the man by the Afrikaners and especially by a large, gray haired white man. The boys were questioned again by their families and the elders of the town. It was then the boys told how the prisoner had saved Thuso by choking one of the Afrikaners and after a heated discussion, it was decided that they would rescue him. Most of them had lived through Apartheid and remembered the screams from the prisoners who had been kept in the prison, and they were worried it was being used once again for evil things.

Now they worked to save his life, tending to his wounds and determined to keep him hidden, knowing that their village would be the first place the Afrikaners would look. The decision to do this had not been universally accepted by the townspeople until those who objected had seen what had been done to him. After that, even those who didn't want to attract the attention of the hated Afrikaners agreed to keep quiet about his being there. They were all afraid to tell the authorities in Polokwane, worrying that they were somehow responsible for him being held in the prison. None of them trusted what would happen to him if he were taken to the hospital there.

"Kensi...Kens...am I dreaming?"

The name he continually called out was discussed among the women and they decided the name belonged to a woman and that this man must love her and they giggled at that as they washed him, debating what she might look like and what part of South Africa she lived in. Some didn't think their patient was a local, but others discounted that opinion before they fell to discussing all of the possible reasons why he had been tortured, but they couldn't agree, knowing that some people needed no reason for the bad things they did. When they had finished washing him, they covered him and left him to sleep, dragging out the unwilling boys, scolding them about bothering him. Thuso's mother stayed, humming soft lullabies to calm him that she usually sang for her children.

...

...

Jürgen stood in front of the bare post in the courtyard as night fell, his hands clutching into fists over and over, his jaw tight with rage. He had wanted so badly to make the prisoner tell him who the man was who had become a father to him. He sneered at the use of the word love as rage choked him. He had wanted to make the prisoner sorry he'd disagreed with him about fathers, sorry he'd ever resisted him, and make him so very sorry he was still alive. Now he was gone and frustration clawed and tightened in his chest. He turned to one of the Afrikaners and smashed his fist into his mouth, dropping him to the ground.

"You were supposed to guard him." The words sounded strangled as he tried to get control of himself before calling Granger.

"He's gone," he said into the phone. "Someone came and took him."

He held the phone away from his ear as Granger cursed. He listened to the man rant as he looked down at the palm of his hand, remembering the feel of the prisoner's skin. He longed to touch him again, to see the anguish in his eyes, to possess him completely and to watch those blue eyes fade to emptiness as he took his life with his own bare hands. Now he wouldn't have that pleasure and it made him very, very mad.

"It has to be the team from NCIS," Granger told him. "No one else would care. I need you back in Johannesburg. I'll find out when they got here and where they're staying and how they're planning on getting him out of the country. Then we'll find him and kill him."

"You said I could kill him my way," Jürgen said anxiously.

"Of course," Granger replied. "Help me find him and you can do whatever you want to him, just like I promised."

Jürgen finally smiled tightly and then turned to the five Afrikaners waiting for instructions. He saw the hate in the eyes of the man he'd hit and he walked up close to him and put his hand on his throat.

"In the morning, I want you back here," Jürgen said. "Get rid of everything that indicates we've been here and don't forget to wash away all the blood. I'll call you when I know his whereabouts. Then you will help me get him back."

None of the men said anything in reply as Jürgen climbed into his Range Rover and roared out of the prison gate, kicking up dust as he left.

...

...

It had taken Callen several minutes to convince Sam and the others that Mack should drive them after the liaison had told him he was familiar with the area, having done his thesis on Apartheid in the Transvaal and had driven the surrounding roads doing research. They had taken both Range Rovers, knowing they would need one to transport Deeks when they found him and now as they approached the prison the tension was palpable.

"Kill the lights," Callen said when Mack informed him they were a quarter mile away. They drove as close as Callen was comfortable with and then pulled off the road.

"Have you had firearms training, Mack?" Callen asked as he checked his weapons.

"I can shoot a gun if I have to," he answered, looking a little nervous as he spoke.

"Ever shoot anybody?" Sam asked as he walked up to the open side window.

"No," he said shaking his head.

"Well, take this pistol just in case," Callen handed him the gun, noticing his reluctance as he took it.

"Chavez, Hank? Stay here with Mack" Callen told the two EMTs. "Come on the run with your gear when I call and keep your guns ready. If we get in a firefight and it comes your way, don't wait for Mack here to protect you."

He smiled at the liaison as the team moved out silently, keeping off the road, weapons held at their sides as they approached the stark, foreboding structure. The partners flanked the entrance, and saw immediately that there were no vehicles, but moved quickly to check the interior for guards, crossing the dark courtyard in pairs, one group covering the other. Sam and Callen paused at one metal door while Kensi and Joe positioned themselves at another further down the far side. Sam silently counted down with his fingers and then breeched the door as Joe and Kensi did the same. Finding no resistance, the teams proceeded to check each cell until they met in the middle.

"It's clear. No one's here," Callen said softly as he began to beam his flashlight around the cell in front of him while Kensi and Joe began to methodically go through the other cells.

"I've got blood, G," Sam said, shining his flashlight into the corner of the cell. "A lot of it."

Kensi had heard him and hurried back, walking hesitantly into the cell with Joe right behind her.

"There's more here," Joe said, his voice dull and listless as he knelt down over a spot by the bars of the cell. "Looks like someone was lying on the floor and bleeding."

Callen picked up a length of rope from the floor, shining his flashlight beam on it and took a deep breath.

"There's dried blood on this rope," he said quietly as he turned toward the bars. "Blood on the bars, too."

Kensi was kneeling on the floor when they heard her whisper Deeks' name. She stood up quickly, holding something in her hand and held it out toward Sam.

"It's his hair," she said as tears spilled down her cheeks. "It's all over the floor."

"The bastards shaved his head," Sam said, his anger shared by all of them.

"Granger told me once that he hated Deeks' hair. We're too late," Joe said sadly. "The asshole killed him."

Then Joe walked quickly out the building and they could hear him start to run and then they heard him stop.

"Guys," he yelled. "Come look at this,"

They three agents found him standing by a pole in the center of the courtyard holding a long piece of rope. Longer pieces were lying on the ground around the base.

"There's blood on this," he said, his voice hinting at the despondency he was feeling.

Callen walked around the post, his flashlight beam searching the surface, finding small streaks of blood in several places.

"So he was here," Callen said as he tried to work out what had happened. "Probably tied to the bars of his cell and then to this post."

"Do you think that was his blood in the corner?" Kensi asked, her voice wavering as she spoke.

"That blood was dry to the touch," Sam said. "Maybe a couple of days old."

Callen stood silently staring, fingering one of the bloody ropes he'd picked up from the ground. Their sadness kept them quiet, afraid to imagine what Deeks had endured. Callen looked at the strand of hair in Kensi's hand and then pulled her into a hug. Joe was inconsolable, striking the post solidly with his fist, never uttering a sound as the night slowly closed in around them. Sam turned and walked back inside and Callen could see the flashlight beam flicking through the open doorway as he searched the cells again. When he came back out, there were barely contained anger in his eyes as he held Deeks' filthy jeans in his hands.

"Granger didn't bring him here just to kill him," Sam said solemnly. "He brought him here to destroy him. Remember all those typed confessions we thought were from Proczko? They all ended with the line, 'You took everything from me and now I'm going to take everything from you'. That was Granger. He stripped Deeks of everything; he took his clothes to make him feel vulnerable, then his hair to erase his identity, cut him off from his family and his friends. That's why he had those photos taken at the memorial service. He wanted Deeks to see that no one would come for him, that he was dead to everyone he cared about. He wanted him to know he was alone with no hope of rescue and then he gave him to Jürgen, who tied him down so he couldn't fight back and tortured him. Granger wanted him to suffer before he killed him and he knew just who to hire to do that."

"Bring the cars up, Mack," Callen said softly into his cell. "We're staying here until it's light."

Kensi began to cry then and Joe put his arms around her and held her, losing his own battle to maintain his composure.

"In the morning we'll search this place again and see if we missed anything," Callen said. "We need to find him and bring his body home."

"You gonna call Hetty?" Sam asked.

"Not till we find him," he answered.

"Then we go after Granger and Jürgen," Joe said. "I'm not leaving them alive."

Sam and Callen exchanged looks as the two Range Rovers pulled in and parked along the wall.

"You didn't find him?" Mack asked softly, noticing how shaken the team was.

"No. We were too late, again," Callen said angrily and walked off to be by himself.

The team eventually separated, each one isolated in their grief. Mack tried to talk to Kensi at one point, but she waved him away, going to stand by Joe, putting her arm around him as he broke down, leaning his head against the rough wall and softly pounding his fist into it over and over until she put her hand over it and stopped him. Sam sat silently in one of the cars, his hands resting on the steering wheel, staring blankly at the post in the center of the courtyard as the darkness of the night paled into dawn. Mack had brought a couple of thermoses of coffee and went over to hand a cup to Callen as he stood at the entrance.

"What town is that?" Callen asked as he took a long drink of the welcomed coffee.

"Ga-Manyapje," he answered. "The people who live there are Northern Sotho."

"Think they might know anything about what happened here?" he asked, staring at the town as it became more distinct in the early morning light.

"Maybe, but it would be unusual for them to come anywhere near this prison," Mack said. "Apartheid was brutal here and this prison is a reminder of that dark time."

"Do they speak English?" Callen asked.

"Most do, if they choose to," Mack said.

"Do you speak their language?" Callen continued to stare at the town.

"A little," Mack answered. "Why?"

"Because I want to talk to the people to see if they know where Deeks might be buried," Callen said, handing Mack his empty cup before turning back toward the Range Rover where Sam sat unmoving.

The sound of approaching vehicles stopped him and he grabbed Mack by the arm, quickly shoving him behind the wall. The others had heard as well, moving rapidly toward the vehicles, pulling weapons as they ran. Callen motioned for Joe and Kensi to take cover in the cellblock, while he and Sam set up behind the first Range Rover, their backs pressed against the wall by the entrance. Mack and the EMTs took cover behind the other car.

A blue Toyota pickup and a beat up red Land Rover pulled into the courtyard. Callen moved quickly out from behind the SUV, pointing his gun toward the men in the pickup as he yelled for them to get out. The men inside both cars almost immediately opened fire. Sam yanked him back, both returning fire as two of the men leaped out on the far side of the pickup, trying to use the vehicle for cover, only to be shot down by Kensi and Joe firing from behind them. The driver of the Land Rover tried to hurriedly back out of the courtyard, but Sam shot out the tires as Callen took down the driver. The two remaining Afrikaners jumped out and tried to run. Callen and Sam yelled at them to stop and drop their weapons, but one turned and fired and Callen fired four shots into his chest. The other man froze, dropping his gun and putting his hands high in the air, begging them not to shoot him. Sam spun him around and swept his legs out from under him, pushing him down to the ground and quickly cuffed him, then the two agents pulled him roughly to his feet and slammed him against the back of the Land Rover.

"Where's the man you held prisoner here?" Sam yelled in his face.

"I don't know," the man stammered, his face pale as he began to sweat.

"Try again, shithead," Joe shouted as he came up, and then hit him hard in the face.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked, gasping at the sudden pain.

"We're the guys who are gonna kill you if you don't tell us where he is," Callen said with his hand pressed firmly into the man's chest.

"Jürgen thinks the Americans have him," the Afrikaner said quickly.

"What?" Kensi asked as the team members looked quickly at one another.

"You didn't kill him?" Joe asked.

"I think Jürgen was angry enough to kill him last night, but when we got here, he was gone," the man said.

Kensi gasped at the revelation and Joe hugged her as they all tried to take in the staggering information and calm the roller coaster of emotion they were experiencing.

"Could he have escaped?" Callen asked, confused but energized.

"No, man," he said, shaking his head with certainty. "No way he could have untied himself from that post and even if he had, after what Jurgen's been doing to him, he couldn't have walked out of here on his own. He managed to escape once, after he killed Pieter, but we got him back and Jurgen had us tie him so tight to that post he could hardly breathe. He'd shot Jürgen when we hunted him down and Jürgen was so pissed he broke his ankle with the butt of a rifle and then smashed his right hand."

Joe went for the guy, but Sam held him back as Callen stepped in front of a visibly shaken Kensi. Everyone's emotions were raw, but Callen told them they needed to keep their heads if they were going to find Deeks.

"How long did you bastards keep him tied there?" Joe angrily shouted.

"Three days to the bars in his cell and two days to that post," he answered matter-of-factly. "He got no water, either."

"All day in the hot sun," Sam said under his breath. "Tied down like that."

"The nights were worse, though," the Afrikaner said. "Jürgen was a mean fokker at night."

Sam hit him low and hard and the man slid to his knees gasping for air before toppling over into the dirt.

"I couldn't listen to him anymore, G," Sam said with no regret whatsoever in his voice.

"To hell with him, we need to find out who has Marty," Joe said anxiously.

"Then throw this guy in the back and let's go," Callen said heading toward the Range Rovers.

"Where?" Kensi asked.

"To that little town over there," Callen said, pointing toward the town at the end of the road. "It's the only place he can be."

...


	22. Chapter 22

**Vengeance: Chapter 22**

...

Suspicious stares greeted the team as they drove slowly through the narrow streets of Ga-Manyapje. Swirls of warm dust trailed them as they drove toward the center of the village, Mack leading the way. Most people immediately ducked back into their houses, while others took a much more aggressive stance as they passed by. A group of men in front of a blue house made of corrugated metal followed them on foot and Sam mentioned that they appeared to be armed and others soon joined them. The houses were low and colorfully painted and small children who had been playing outside were quickly grabbed by parents and pulled inside, but a few of the older ones were curious and ran through back alleys to follow the unknown visitors. By the time the two Range Rovers stopped in the center of town, a large group of men and women had gathered around the edges of the open common area, and older kids and dogs ran between the different groups, excited that there was something new to engage their interest.

Mack was the first one to step out, while the others slowly followed, careful not to make any sudden moves, sensing the tension that accompanied the distrustful looks they were receiving. The men who had followed them moved closer and were definitely armed, making the agents nervous as they gathered in front of the vehicles.

"You know anyone here?" Callen asked Mack.

"No, but let me ask if any of the elders will speak to us," he replied and then calmly walked over to one of the older men who was sitting in a yellow wooden chair outside one of the houses.

While Mack talked to the man, three teenagers snuck up to the back of the SUV where the Afrikaner was tied up and they began to talk loudly about him, pointing and calling to their friends. Sam walked over to try and calm them and was soon surrounded by angry men and women wanting answers to who they were and why they were there.

Callen was afraid the situation was getting out of hand and went to see if Mack would explain to the people who they were looking for.

"They want us to leave," Mack said. "This man is an elder and I asked him if he knew about a white man being held at the prison and he immediately began shaking his head and telling me to leave."

"Do you think he's lying?" Callen asked as Kensi joined them.

"Sam's surrounded, Callen. What do you want to do?" she said.

Callen and Mack walked quickly toward the group surrounding Sam, noticing just how angry the people were becoming. Mack spoke to them in their own language, telling them the Afrikaner was their prisoner and would be turned over to the authorities in Polokwane.

"Why should we believe you?" Asked a tall black man dressed in khakis and a lime green shirt. "We don't know you."

"We're looking for a man who was tortured by this prisoner and by others," Sam said calmly.

"We have seen no white man here," a woman said angrily, her face hard and unforgiving. "Now go."

"Please, he's a friend and he's hurt and we need to find him," Kensi pleaded.

The people looked warily at one another and then started to disperse, shaking their heads as they walked away.

"They don't trust us," Callen said.

"They don't trust whites here very much," Mack said softly.

"What about me? I'm not white," Sam said with a small smile.

"You probably just scared the shit out of them, Sam," Joe said with a laugh.

"It's another dead end," Kensi said angrily. "If we don't find him he could die and you just stand here joking."

Kensi covered her mouth with her hand as the tears started to come and turned away from them, hurrying back to the other Range Rover.

"Kensi," Sam called out as the agents started after her. "I'm sorry Kens."

She stood leaning against the door of the vehicle trying to get control of her emotions and the men surrounded her as they apologized. Sam wrapped his arms around her and gently held her until she got herself together. A small boy in brightly colored shorts and a tee shirt pushed between Callen and Joe and started yanking at the end of Kensi's shirt. She looked down at a smiling face dominated by big eyes.

"Kensi," the boy said. Then he turned to another boy and repeated her name. That boy walked slowly toward them, his eyes wide and a smile on his face. The two boys talked excitedly to each other, occasionally pointing at her as they did.

"What the hell are they saying, Mack?" Joe asked.

"They're talking a little too fast for me, but I think they are talking about your name, Kensi," Mack answered.

The two boys suddenly stopped talking and walked closer, each taking one of Kensi's hands and pulling her to come with them. She looked at the others and shrugged, allowing the boys to lead her up an alley. The other agents followed, as did the remaining people who had just asked them to leave. The little procession wound through several streets until the boys stopped in front of a low wooden house with a red door. The younger boy opened the door and yelled out something and then pulled Kensi into the dim interior. The other boy nodded at the agents and motioned for them to come in. They filled the tiny room, standing self consciously as three women stared back at them with welcoming smiles on their faces. The young boy pulled Kensi toward the door to another room and pushed it open. He said Kensi's name to whoever was inside and then turned back with a proud smile on his face.

"Deeks," he said, pointing inside.

The atmosphere suddenly became electric as Kensi stepped into the small bedroom. A large woman sat next to a bed wiping Deeks' forehead as he tossed about and mumbled softly in his delirium.

"Oh my God, Marty," Kensi said, tears streaming down her face as she sat down next to him and reached out to touch him. He jerked away at her touch and the large woman sitting in the chair shushed him quietly. Callen and Sam and Joe all crammed into the room, needing to see for themselves that he was alive, but their joy quickly disappeared when they saw the shape he was in. Callen called the EMTs, telling them to come on the run and to bring their gear.

"Dikobo will bring them," the woman said, surprising them when she spoke English. She quickly instructed the older boy on what was needed and he quickly raced out of the room.

"My name is Mosa. My son Thuso here, found your friend in the prison," she told them as she continued to press the cool cloth to Deeks' bruised face. "He and Dikobo brought him water and a little food but an Afrikaner found them there and beat my son. Deeks saved him from the man and when we saw how badly he was being treated we decided to repay his kindness."

"We can never thank you enough for what you've done," Sam said softly, his eyes never leaving Deeks face.

"We cleaned him and helped him as best we could," she answered. "He kept calling out names, calling your name Kensi, many times and for someone named George."

"Joe, Sam, Callen," Thuso chanted out the names he had heard, smiling shyly at each man and pointing until he got them to nod when he lined up the right name with the right man.

"He is very, very weak and in a lot of pain," Thuso's mother said as she rose from the chair. "We had nothing to give him, I am sorry. He has not woken since we brought him here yesterday afternoon. His hand is very badly broken and his ankle is too."

She slowly pulled back the covering sheet to show them his ankle and then threw the cover completely off causing Kensi to cry out and Joe to curse loudly in shock at the massive bruising all over his body. The crisscrossed stripes of rope-burned flesh showed how cruelly he'd been tied and Sam had to sit down quickly in the small chair, his anger almost overwhelming him. Callen's eyes were red rimmed and his jaw taut when Hank and Chavez looked into the room.

"Shit," Hank said softly before motioning for all of them to clear the room.

"I'm staying," Kensi said firmly.

The two medics nodded and got to work. Chavez administered a shot for the pain, but had difficulty finding a vein.

"He is really badly dehydrated," he said, quickly starting him on IV fluids while Hank checked his vitals.

The men worked quickly and efficiently, but whenever they touched him, he would become agitated and pull away, mumbling curses and trying to fight them whenever they had to hold him still. The two men debated whether to sedate him, but decided they had to, even though he obviously had a concussion, in order to stabilize his broken ankle and check his hand. When he was finally still, Hank felt for the break in his ankle and cursed softly as he felt the multiple cracks in the bone. The whole foot and lower leg was swollen and his skin was hot to the touch and almost black. They wrapped it and put it in a temporary inflated cast until they could get him to a hospital.

"How is he?" Joe asked, his face tense with worry, as he and Sam poked their heads in.

"We gotta get him out of here and to a hospital," Chavez said without looking up. "If his temperature gets any higher he's going to start convulsing."

"I'll tell Callen," Sam said, backing out of the door.

"Kensi, you okay?" Joe asked gently as he watched her stroke Deeks' forehead.

"He looks so different without his hair," she said softly.

"It'll grow back, Kensi," Joe said, hoping to comfort her. "And when he's back on his feet, we can tell him how funny he looked and how much better Sam looks without hair than he does."

She smiled at his comment, but it was such a sad smile that he was sorry he'd said anything. Then he looked over as Hank worked on Deeks' broken right hand and he felt such a rush of white-hot anger it made him dizzy and he had to grab the doorframe. Chavez saw what was happening and grabbed his shoulders and told him to take a couple of deep breaths.

"Don't you pass out on me, man," Chavez told him.

"Those fuckin' bastards," he choked out, his eyes glazed with sudden tears.

"Kensi, take him out of here, please," Chavez said. "I need both of you to stay out. Let us do our jobs, okay?"

"Yeah, sorry man," Joe said as Kensi took his arm and led him out of the room and out of the house.

Callen passed by them as they went out, noting how pale Joe was and the stunned look still on Kensi's face that had been there since they'd found Deeks. Callen accepted a bottle of water from one of the ladies coming from the kitchen and then stuck his head into the room where the medics were still working on him.

"How's he doin'?" he asked as he stepped inside.

Neither man answered. All he got were a couple of guarded looks that told him they needed to move him soon. He couldn't help but stare as Chavez stitched up a long diagonal slash across Deeks' wrist.

"They must have bled him to weaken him," Chavez said softly. "These are seriously fucked up individuals. See those small, dark round bruises over the bigger ones on his ribs? We think they're thumbprints. I saw this kind of torture used by insurgents in Iraq when I did my tour. They press down on the victim's cracked or broken ribs until they tell them whatever they want."

"Jürgen wasn't looking for information," Callen said hoarsely, "He just did it to make him suffer."

"Yeah. You need to shoot that bastard, Callen," Hank said as he gently rubbed an antibiotic cream into the deep rope burns on Deeks' right wrist.

"When can we move him?" Callen asked.

"As soon as I finish wrapping his wrists and get some stitches in all the cuts around his eyes," Hank said.

Callen moved quickly, heading for the vehicles that Sam had driven up and parked just outside. He found Sam and Mack preparing the back of the Range Rover with a mattress one of the villagers had offered. He called the pilots in Johannesburg and when he finished talking to the captain, he turned toward Sam with a dark look on his face.

"Someone questioned one of the pilots at the hanger," he said. "They were asked who the jet belonged to and how long they would be in the country."

"Granger," Sam said angrily. "What did they say?"

"They gave the name of the corporation they work for," Callen replied. "Said they had flown in a couple of executives for a meeting somewhere in the city."

"Did they give a description of the guy asking?" Sam wanted to know.

"Said he was an older guy, German," Callen said. "I told them to fly up here to Polokwane as soon as they thought it was safe. No way I'm taking Deeks into Johannesburg."

"It's too far to take him anyway," Sam said softly. "We were lucky, G. If the people in this town hadn't cut him down and brought him here, we would have lost him. He wouldn't have survived another day with that sick bastard. How could Granger turn him over to a guy like that?"

"Granger wanted vengeance," Callen answered. "And Jürgen was his weapon of choice."

"You talk to Hetty yet?" Sam asked.

"Hetty? We've got him," Callen said into his cell as he locked eyes with his partner. "Does Granger know the friend who loaned you the jet?"

"No, he does not," Hetty answered. "Tell me how bad he is Mr. Callen."

"He's alive, Hetty, but barely" Callen said with a tight voice. He gave her as much information as he could, knowing that it was only what was visible to the naked eye. What X-Rays and MRIs would show was something they would find out when they got him to a hospital. He didn't voice his concerns about Deeks mental state; sure that Hetty would have already considered that.

"How's the team, Mr. Callen?" she asked. "Anyone hurt during the extraction?"

"No, Hetty. We weren't the ones who rescued him," he said. "We have two little boys and the people of their village to thank for that. They saved his life Hetty."

"So you've had no contact with Granger or Jürgen?" she asked quickly.

"Only with what they're capable of," his voice harsh and deep and angry.

"Then get him out of the country as fast as you can," she said. "We'll deal with those two later. Do you think they know about the jet?"

"I think he might have it under surveillance," he answered. "Jürgen questioned one of the pilots. Don't worry, Hetty, I'll think of something to throw them off the scent. What hospital are we taking him to?"

"Landstuhl in Germany," she told him. "They are expecting Mr. Deeks. I'll send contact information to your phone and once you're in the air, landing information will be sent to your pilots."

"We'll get him there, Hetty," he said firmly.

"I know you will, Mr. Callen," she said before ending the call.

"Mack, what do you know about corporations in Polokwane?" Callen asked as he put his arm around the surprised liaison and walked him back in the house.

"I know the names of a couple," he said. "Why?"

"You just became a corporate executive," Callen said, slapping him lightly on the back.

"I did? Why me?" he asked, suddenly quite worried.

"One, you're the only one wearing a suit and tie," Callen said with a smirk. "And two, Granger knows all of us."

"Callen, we're ready to go," Hank said as he and Chavez walked out of the bedroom.

"Sam, get Joe in here," Callen yelled out the door.

With three on either side, the team lifted Deeks in the blanket he had been rescued in. The fresh bandages on his head and around his wrists were stark against his blistered skin, but he finally looked to be sleeping peacefully as they carried him out of the little house. The narrow street was crowded with townspeople who had come to see him off. Some of the men who had helped rescue him reached out to touch him as he passed by, and the women who had cleaned his wounds spoke softly to one another as they stood in front of the house, a couple wiping tears from their eyes. Everyone was smiling though, all of them proud of what they had done to save this man.

Thuso and Dikobo stood on either side of the back of the vehicle, their eyes big and sad, neither one smiling as Deeks was loaded in the rear of the Range Rover. The team stepped back, allowing the two small boys to have a moment with the man they had cared for so diligently and whose life they had saved. Big tears slipped down Thuso's face as he patted Deeks' bare arm and spoke softly to him as Dikobo rested his hand on Deeks' leg, his arm around his best friend's shoulder. Thuso finally turned toward Callen and Sam and spoke sharply to them as Dikobo nodded vigorously in agreement, shaking his finger at them until Thuso finished. Then they looked back at Deeks and spoke to him one last time, smiles finally lighting their faces, before they nodded to Sam and Callen and stepped aside.

"What did he say?" Sam asked Mack.

"He said Deeks was your responsibility now," Mack said smiling slightly. "He told you to take good care of him, because he is too weak to care for himself. Then they said goodbye and hoped he would come back and visit them when he was well."

Kensi had tears in her eyes as she kneeled down and hugged the two boys, causing them to giggle shyly and shove one another as a few of the kids in the crowd laughed and pointed at them. Then she hugged Mosa and thanked her and the other three women for the care they had given Deeks.

"He called out your name many times, Kensi," Mosa said with a soft smile. "We believe he loves you very much."

"I know," she said, unable to stop her tears. "I'll take good care of him."

The people waved as the two Range Rovers headed out, the team waving back and talking about how kind these strangers had been to Deeks. Their conversations quieted and they all became silent as they approached the prison. Sam drove into the courtyard past the two vehicles and the dead men from their firefight that morning, scaring off several large vultures, but only briefly. Sam and Callen opened the back and hauled the Afrikaner out while Joe stood off to the side, his weapon drawn.

"You can't leave me here," the man pleaded as they shoved him into the cell where Deeks had been held.

"Yes we can," Sam said. "Just be happy we didn't tie you up like you did Deeks."

"Joe over there wants to shoot you," Callen said. "Your choice."

The man was quiet after that and they left him there without a backward glance as they drove toward the apartment in Polokwane. They would need the cover of darkness to get the team and Deeks on board the jet without being seen and Callen needed time to give Mack a short course in working undercover.

"You think Goofy can pull it off, G?" Sam asked.

"It's our only play, Sam," Callen answered. "If Granger has our jet under surveillance and thinks we're using it to get Deeks out of the country he'll be waiting for us and there'll be a firefight in the middle of a commercial airport. We have to make him believe it's just an ordinary corporate jet, flying a mid level corporate VP to a meeting in Europe."

"You really think Mack can be a convincing corporate executive?" Joe asked with a sharp laugh of derision.

"We'll just have to find out what he's good at and use it," Callen said.

"Now I'm getting scared," Joe said. "All of our lives in the hands of a geek."

...


	23. Chapter 23

**Vengeance: Chapter 23**

...

Kensi plucked at her shirt, trying to pull it away from her body where it stuck to her damp skin in the unrelenting heat as they drove through Polokwane. She couldn't help but look back at Deeks as she did it, her mind trying to comprehend what it must have been like for him to be tied to that post for hours with the blistering sun beating down on him, unable to move and without water. She fought against a wave of nausea, her heart beating wildly in her chest, causing her to close her eyes as she tried to blot out the images of what those brutal men had done to him. She reached for him, touching his knee as tears started in her eyes again, but she blinked them back, becoming angry at her weakness, knowing that it had been his intrinsic courage that had sustained him during the long days alone. Now she needed to find that same sort of courage to help him get through this.

She had never experienced such profound happiness and such deep sorrow, both at the same time. She would never be able to describe to anyone the depth of emotion and unbelievable euphoria she had experienced when she'd walked into that room and saw that he was alive. What he had suffered in those eight dark days he'd been held captive crashed down on her almost at the same instant and it had shaken her profoundly. She'd wanted to hold him, to soothe his pain and comfort him and tell him she was there, that they had come for him and that he was no longer alone and had never been forgotten, but she hadn't been able to do that. He hadn't even known she was there and the EMTs had taken charge as they rightfully should have, but she couldn't help but feel that he needed her, needed what only she could give him. Now she had to wait for him to wake, for his mind to realize he no longer had to fight alone, that she was there to fight for him and to protect him, as they had always done for one another.

She wasn't even aware they had stopped, so she was jolted when the doors of the Range Rover opened and Sam stood looking in at her, his expression weary, but focused with his gun at his side. The medics opened up the back and the men gathered to carry Deeks into the house as Sam and Kensi kept guard. When he was gently lowered onto the bed, Hank started ushering them all out of the room and she felt a spike of anger and stubbornly refused to leave.

"Let her stay, Hank," Callen said as he put his arm around her. "If he happens to wake up, seeing Kensi will let him know he's safe now."

"Of course," he said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to shut you out, Agent Blye."

"You're just lucky she didn't kick your ass for trying to separate her from her partner," Callen said with a small grin.

Hank tilted his head and gave him a doubtful look just as Joe popped his head in, smiling, having heard Callen's comment.

"I've got a cousin you should talk to," Joe said. "She outshot him and he was an Army Ranger."

"You guys think this skinny little thing can kick my ass?" Hank said as he stood to his full height, putting his hands on his hips and throwing out his chest.

"Oh, yeah," Callen and Joe said in unison.

Kensi gave all of them a withering look before worry lines creased her face when Deeks moaned suddenly in his sleep. She was instantly by his side as was Hank.

"Should he be waking up?" Kensi asked. "I thought you sedated him."

"I think it's a nightmare, more than a response to any pain," Hank said softly as he checked Deeks' pulse. "I gave him a pretty strong dose of pain meds."

She placed her hand lightly on his bare chest and he flinched violently, crying out this time while tears gathered beneath his fluttering eyelashes.

"Do you think he needs to be sedated more?" Joe asked, agitated by Deeks' strong reaction to being touched.

"No. I think he needs to wake up and realize he's with people who aren't trying to hurt him," Hank said.

"Can I sit with him awhile?" Kensi whispered, as the stunned look returned to her face.

"Call me if you need me," Hank said as he got up and followed the two agents out of the room.

She longed to touch him, to hold him close and pass her strength onto him, but now she was afraid. She was afraid of what Jürgen had done to him and that it might have changed him forever. If his mind had been tortured as viciously as his body, she worried that she might have lost the funny and sweet and gentle man who could brighten her day just by a cock of his eyebrow or a soft grin after one of his teasing remarks. She didn't know what that would mean for them in the long run, but she knew she would do whatever it took to help him return to the man he was; the man she knew now she could never live without.

The past week had been a different kind of hell for her, one full of echoing emptiness as she'd tried to hold on to the belief that he was somehow still alive. Some mornings she'd woken up knowing that he was, but the nights were filled with the dread that she was wrong, that she had lost the one person who gave her life meaning, who filled her with a constant sense of the joy for life itself. During the days, she'd discovered that life without him was colorless and hollow; lacking that spark only he could ignite in her. Now, as she looked down at his battered face, she wondered if they had both lost that spark, that the savage treatment by Jürgen might have taken away his inherent love of life. It almost crushed her to think about it, to contemplate what the brutality had done to his spirit and fresh, unwanted tears caught her unawares, but she couldn't stop them and didn't try. Her strength was fading and she let herself grieve for him and for what he had suffered and for what they both may have lost. She so wanted to touch him, but for now he wouldn't tolerate that, so she focused on his long, soft eyelashes, remembering the pale blue eyes that hid behind them, trying to believe that when he opened them, they would be unchanged.

...

"Eric, I need you to backstop Mack's alias," Callen said at his image on the screen in the communications room of the apartment.

"Name?" he asked in reply as Callen made a quick assessment of Mack.

"Any name you've ever fantasized about using?" Callen asked with a smirk.

"Spock?" Mack answered.

"This isn't the movies, Goofy," Sam said.

"Why does everybody keep calling me that?" Mack asked.

"Think of it as a term of endearment," Callen said.

"That just makes it creepy," Mack replied.

"Star Trek, the original series or the remake movie?" Eric asked.

"Original TV series," Mack answered, earning a thumbs up from Eric.

"How about Leonard Kirk?" Eric suggested. "Combine the best of the main characters."

"Go with it Eric," Callen laughed. "He will be a VP in charge of computer systems for the corporation that owns the jet we're using, AginCorp."

"I'll make it a new position and redo the online company newsletter announcing his promotion," Nell added. "That way, Granger's guy won't have to look too deep to find him."

"We'll do the deepest backstory we can in the limited time we have," Eric said quickly when he saw the concern on Callen's face. "Faolan Boyle is good, but don't worry, I'll have it covered. I'll make your background close to your real one, Mack. Just in case."

"Callen? What if I slip up?" Mack asked, his nervousness apparent. "I could get you all killed."

"Hell, Mack, you could get yourself killed," Joe said lightly.

"Did you leave your brain in the States, Joe?" Sam said angrily.

"Sorry. Bad gallows humor," he said sheepishly. "Deeks was always better at easing the tension before an op."

The mention of Deeks' name sobered them and made Callen realize just how difficult this op could turn out to be.

"Sam, call the pilots and find out just where the plane will be," Callen directed. "Mack, can you hack into the security cameras at the airport, or should I get Eric on it? I need to see the layout around the hanger."

Mack's nervousness disappeared and he smiled shyly as he sat down at the computer.

"Piece of cake," he said enthusiastically. "You sure I'm not going to get in trouble for this?"

"We usually try and make it a point not to get arrested," Callen said. "Especially in foreign countries."

"Yeah, that's worked out well during your career," Sam said with a knowing grin.

Callen quickly spoke with the pilots and was advised that they were in the air, but the look on Callen's face as he spoke with them worried Sam and Joe quickly picked up on it.

"They're fairly sure they were being watched," Callen said as he quickly called Eric back onscreen.

"Eric, do you still have a way to trace that jet Jürgen used to get Deeks over here?" Callen asked.

"Nell's been tracking it all along," Eric said as Nell appeared on the big screen.

"That jet took off right after yours," Nell said. "Flight plan says they are headed for Polokwane."

"Shit," Joe said for all of them.

"How we gonna pull this off, G?" Sam asked.

Callen's mind hadn't rested since they'd found Deeks. He had anticipated a firefight to get him away from Jürgen, and Hetty had told him that his second priority after rescuing Deeks was to kill the former Stasi agent. As he looked back on it now, he realized how much easier it would have been if that scenario had played out. They could have made a run for the plane and already been in the air. Now, the situation had become complicated and Deeks' condition meant that care had to be taken, not only for his well-being, but because Jürgen was still out there. He understood how Granger worked, but Jürgen was an unknown operative. He knew he was a brutal bastard, but how he conducted an operation was different and he was unsure how he would respond to what they were about to attempt and it worried him. Mack might be able to give a convincing performance, but he was quite sure the young man had never come up against anyone like Jürgen. The goofy kid might pee his pants for all Callen knew. Seeing what Jürgen had done to Deeks didn't bode well for Mack, if he froze or gave himself away. Callen had no doubt the man would kill the young liaison without a moments hesitation if he thought he was being lied to, so he knew they would have to be within striking distance if Mack was approached by Jürgen.

Callen's mind sharpened as he thought the operation through. They needed something more to convince Jürgen and Granger that the team wasn't using this corporate jet and they needed a way to transport Deeks and the team to the plane. He quickly called the pilots and questioned them about standard operations preceding a long flight and let a small smile play cross his face as he heard the pilot mention catering and the trucks that serviced them.

"Sam? You and Joe need to steal a truck from Springbok Catering," Callen said as he put down the phone. "Preferably one large enough to hold all of us."

Sam nodded with understanding as Joe quickly searched online for the address. The two men looked relieved to be doing something besides standing around and they were soon out the door.

"Hetty?" Callen said as Mack reestablished the com link with OSP.

"What do you need Mr. Callen?" she asked.

"We need to make Granger and Jürgen think we left yesterday," he said. "Did Vance ever discover who Granger's mole was?"

"Yes, but they are monitoring him until Granger is captured," Hetty answered. "What did you have in mind, Mr. Callen?"

"I think we let it slip out that Deeks has been found alive and is home safe in LA," Callen said. "The Afrikaner we captured said Jürgen thought we had taken Deeks yesterday and if that's the case we would all be home by now. If we send an email to Vance, do you think the mole will access it and relay the information to Granger?"

"He most definitely will," Nell said as she came to stand next to Hetty. "This guy is good and seems dedicated to passing everything quickly on to Granger."

"Good. We need it now, Nell," Callen said. "Keep it simple and vague, like we just landed."

"How's it going at your end, Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked as Nell disappeared.

"Hetty, meet our liaison Mack, from FPD, your latest undercover operative," Callen said as he put his hand on Mack's shoulder. "His alias is Leonard Kirk and I hope Eric has backstopped him effectively by now."

"Welcome, Captain Kirk," Hetty said with a smile. "Try not to get yourself killed, won't you? The paperwork would be a bitch."

Mack was struck dumb by his first meeting with Hetty. He sat mutely at the keyboard as the conversation continued around him.

"How's Mr. Deeks?" Hetty's voice became suddenly soft when she asked about her young agent.

"They have him sedated, Hetty," Callen's voice also dropped in intensity as he told her about Deeks. He hadn't spent much time with him, but his first glimpse of his badly beaten face and body had aroused such a burning rage that he almost hadn't been able to catch his breath. Later, when he'd spoken to the two EMTs and seen the sadistic nature of the torture Deeks had endured, he'd decidedly closed off his thoughts about it just so he could function and plan their escape. But now, seeing the concern on Hetty's face brought all of it back and he struggled with his emotions. In the early days, Deeks had been like a new toy they all got to play with. He was easy to joke with and play pranks on and, if he was honest, make fun of and he and Sam always delighted in teasing him about Kensi. As time went on their relationship had changed and they had all come to respect him and to care about him and since the last operation against Lee Chao, Callen had felt protective of him in a way that had surprised him. Seeing him in pain on that bed in that tiny room today had hurt and he almost couldn't bear it. Deeks and Sam were as close as he would ever get to having brothers, so he was taking this personally. If the chance came to kill Jürgen without jeopardizing their escape, he would, without hesitation and without regret. A man who could do what he had done to Deeks didn't deserve to live.

"Take care, Captain Kirk" Hetty said. "Let me know when you're in the air Mr. Callen."

"She's scary," Mack said, swallowing nervously once Hetty's face disappeared from the big screen.

"You have no idea," Callen said as he patted the young liaison on the shoulder.

It was dark by the time Sam and Joe returned with the large catering truck, quickly hiding it in the garage before it was noticed. Chavez had put together a reasonably good dinner for everyone, but it had taken Sam some time to convince Kensi to leave Deeks' side and join them. Hank had eaten quickly and went to take her place and only then did she come out of his room. The dinner conversation consisted of each agent giving Mack advice on being undercover and maintaining his alias. The young man's eyes remained large and frightened during the discourse and Sam and Callen shared looks of concern throughout the meal. When Callen's phone rang, everyone went silent.

"What's up, Hetty?" Callen asked as he put her on speaker.

"I've spoken with Director Vance and he is up to speed on your operation," Hetty told him. "I did have to listen to him rant a bit, but it was nothing I hadn't heard before. He was quite stunned to hear Mr. Deeks is alive and asks that you give him his best when he wakes up. He will play his part in your stratagem to convince the mole that the team and Mr. Deeks are already safely back in LA. In fact he was thrilled. I'd hate to be that mole when this is all over. The Director had some choice words and threats about the man. I think he will be quite sorry he aligned himself with Granger."

"Wish us luck, Hetty," Callen said.

"You don't rely on luck, Mr. Callen. Tell Mr. McDonald his father would have been proud," Hetty said before signing off.

Everyone turned to stare at Mack, whose face had suddenly taken on a look of complete shock before his chin quivered slightly. Then he rose and left the table.

"What do you think that was all about?" Joe asked.

"Just Hetty doing her homework," Sam said. "And letting us know there's more to the kid then he lets on."

"Chavey? You and Hank get Deeks ready to go," Callen said quickly and very business-like. "We're gonna be close to the jet, so make sure he doesn't make a sound or this could get ugly fast."

"Kensi, if we do get in a firefight, stay by Deeks. We'll make a run for the plane if we have to." Callen instructed. "Everyone ready?"

"I'll get Mack," Sam said as he headed back into the communications room.

He found Mack staring at a worn photo, which he quickly put it away when he heard Sam enter the room.

"Hetty knows everything about all of us, Mack," Sam said softly. "But, now you have to clear your mind and concentrate. Just be yourself."

"But I'm not supposed to be," Mack said as he turned toward Sam. "I'm supposed to be some corporate executive and I don't know how to be that person. I'm a geek, Sam."

"Then be the best geek executive you can be," Sam told him. "Your alias is in charge of computer systems. That's not much of a stretch for you. Don't get caught up in the title. I'm pretty sure you know more about computers than Jürgen or Granger."

Mack nodded and straightened his tie and smoothed the sides of his gray suit before standing up and grabbing a pile of file folders and his tablet.

"Thanks, Sam," he said quietly. "I'll do my best."

Mack headed out the door and missed seeing Sam shake his head and briefly close his eyes as he took a deep breath and followed him out.

Mack got in one of the rented Range Rovers and waited as the team loaded Deeks in the back of the catering truck. Callen talked to him briefly, making sure he knew the location of the hanger where the jet would be waiting. Then he was on his own.

When Callen got in the back of the truck, Joe looked at him with worried eyes.

"You sure about this, Callen?" Joe asked.

"No." Callen said. "Let's go Hank."

Within the hour they were parked next to the AginCorp jet waiting for Mack to make his appearance. Chavez and Hank had carried a few boxes on board to make it look like a typical service, but then they all just anxiously waited.

"G. Black limo at ten o'clock," Sam said quietly as he stared out of the rear window.

"Granger," Callen said softly.

Then Sam ducked down as the headlights of the Range Rover swept over the back of the catering truck. As soon as Mack stopped and opened the door, someone stepped out of the limo and headed toward it. Mack hadn't moved as Sam took up his watch once again, letting the others know what was happening.

"It's Jürgen," he whispered.

Mack finally got out of the Range Rover and seemed oblivious to the man approaching. He started hurrying toward the plane, dropping several file folders and then turning back to scramble after them as a gust of wind blew them toward the catering truck. He finally captured them just as Jürgen reached him. He stood up quickly and fumbled the folders in his arms and then dropped the tablet. Jürgen reached down and picked it up, surprising Mack, who smiled in embarrassment. They were both standing right by the side of the catering truck and everyone could hear their conversation.

"Thanks man," Mack said breathlessly. "I'm really late. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Is this your plane?" Jürgen asked softly as he reached out and touched Mack's arm.

"This jet? No, no this is owned by my company, AginCorp," Mack said as he turned to head back toward the jet. "It's taking me to a couple of cities in Europe. It's private."

Jürgen reached out and took Mack's arm, stopping him from moving forward. Then he moved to stand between him and the jet, a thin smile on his face. Again his hand stroked the young man's arm and Mack intuitively stepped away from his touch.

"What's your name?" Jürgen asked, his voice soothing and calm.

"Leonard Kirk," he said with a questioning look. "Why do you ask?"

"Will you be flying alone?" Jürgen asked, stepping along side of Mack and putting his hand at the base of his neck. "Or are others joining you? And please, don't lie to me."

His hand tightened on the back of Mack's neck and he pulled him closer as they stood in the shadows of the hanger. Mack swallowed hard and then pulled away and backed toward the plane.

"It's just me," he said. "Listen, man. I really have to go. We were supposed to take off a half hour ago. I just got this promotion and I really don't want to screw up on my first assignment."

"What do you do for this corporation?" Jürgen asked as he moved close to him again, his eyes roving over his body as he spoke.

"I'm a computer systems analyst. A Vice President actually," Mack said with a shy smile. "It's a big promotion for me. They fly me all over the world."

"Do you have a card?" Jürgen asked as he reached out and touched Mack's hand.

"No. Not yet anyway," he said. "They promised I'd have them when I land in Paris. Cool, huh? You ever been to Paris? I never have and I'm really excited to see it. Well, listen man, I gotta go so you take care okay?"

As Mack turned toward the gangway of the jet, he stumbled and the file folders and the tablet slipped out of his hands, scattering around his feet.

"Shit!" he said and then smiled and shrugged his shoulders before bending down and methodically picking up the folders. Jürgen picked up one of the stray papers and scanned it briefly before handing it back.

"Your job looks complicated," Jürgen said with a smile.

"Not really," Mack said as he plopped the tablet on top of the file folders, looking briefly uncertain as another man approached.

"We need to go," the man in the Panama hat said to Jürgen. "They're already in Los Angeles."

"You sure?" Jürgen asked as he stood staring at Mack.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Granger said.

"Enjoy Paris, my young friend," Jürgen said, reaching out to squeeze his arm before turning to follow Granger back to the limo.

Mack stood briefly watching them, before turning and running up the gangway and into the jet just as the engines started. No one left the catering truck for fifteen minutes. Then the truck backed slowly toward the base of the stairs and stopped, the doors opened and the team moved quickly to get Deeks on board. Sam parked the catering truck by the side of the hanger and then took the gangway stairs two at a time as the jet began to move. The door closed behind him as the plane taxied out.

"Where's Mack?" Sam asked as he took his seat.

"Throwing up in the bathroom," Joe said with a laugh.

The jet took off into the deepening night and everyone let out a sigh of relief as Callen quickly called Hetty.

"Wheels up, Hetty," he said. "Jürgen was intimidating even from a distance and Mack was a little shaky, but the kid pulled it off, although I'm not sure how."

"Sometimes innocence trumps evil, Mr. Callen," Hetty said.

...


	24. Chapter 24

**Vengeance: Chapter 24**

...

Joe called his dad as soon as they cleared South African air space. He didn't know why that was important to him, but it made it seem as if Marty was truly free and back with people who loved him. He heard the tears in his father's voice, the unnatural tremor that signaled the depth of meaning this held for him. He had only seen his father cry twice in his lifetime, both when he had lost the two people who meant the most to him in the world, his wife and his oldest son. This time he had cried with joy at the news that a man he had grown to love as a son had been returned to the living and Joe had cried with him. Now he tried to steady himself as he sat down next to the man he loved like a brother, and tears once again threatened, so he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he took in the cuts and bruises that covered Deeks' face.

"God, Marty," he said softly. "How did you survive what that bastard did to you?"

He had asked Hank how long it would be before he woke up, but had gotten no definitive answer and had felt selfish for wanting to see him open his eyes, knowing he really needed the rest to heal. But he wanted him to know he was safe, that he had made it, survived the worst that sick sonofabitch could do to him and that he didn't have to be afraid anymore. Joe needed him to know that, but knew he had to be patient and he wasn't feeling very patient at the moment. He'd wanted to shoot the bastard who'd hurt him. When he'd heard Jürgen's voice just outside the truck, he had reached for his gun, only to have Callen strongly grip his wrist with a dark warning look in his eyes and it had made him angry.

"Can I sit with you both awhile?" Mack asked tentatively as he poked his head into the room.

"Sure kid," Joe said, tearing himself away from his turbulent thoughts.

He watched closely as the young man sat down in the chair across the bed from him, his brown eyes soft and curious as he looked over at Deeks. His badly broken right hand lay in front of him, and he saw Mack's own hand tremble as he glanced at it. His eyes flitted up to look back at Joe and he saw a little bit of the trepidation that was still there from his encounter with Jürgen.

"He kept touching me," Mack said softly as his eyes returned to Deeks' face. "It gave me the chills every time. Just the way he looked at me scared the shit out of me. It was like he owned me and wanted to eat me whole."

"You okay?" Joe asked.

"No. I think I might have nightmares for quite awhile," Mack said with a quick, slightly embarrassed grin.

"You did good. You fooled him," Joe said.

"Deeks must be a lot stronger than me," Mack said. "How long did you say Jürgen held him captive?"

"Eight days," Joe said.

"My God." The young man visibly shivered at the thought. "It must have been terrible for him. To have that man come at him day after day. How did he stand it?"

"I think Deeks is a lot stronger than any of us give him credit for," Joe said softly.

Mack stood up quickly then, closing his eyes tightly for a few minutes. He looked sadly at down at Deeks and then at Joe, shaking his head, his face having lost some of its innocence and then he walked slowly from the room.

Joe patted Deeks' arm without thinking as he got up and followed Mack out. Chavez nodded to him as he passed him on the way in. They had all agreed that Deeks was never to be alone and gladly took turns sitting with him. Sam had finally convinced Kensi to take a nap, so it was Chavey's turn. The medic checked Deeks' IV line and then sat down beside him on a chair on the far side of the bed and soon nodded off.

...

Deeks had felt an unfamiliar hand on his arm and it had jolted his mind, causing him to spiral up toward consciousness. He had never felt so tired and his mind became crowded with images and memories he couldn't comprehend. The pain he had lived with for so long seemed easier to bear and that surprised him and scared him at the same time. He had no idea where he was when he became aware and he felt fear clawing at his heart as he listened for Jürgen's familiar footsteps. When he realized he was no longer tied to the post in the courtyard he opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings. White-hot terror exploded throughout his body as he saw he was back on the plane and that Jürgen was moving him and had probably drugged him to do it. He looked over at the man napping next to the bed and a roaring rage filled him. He struggled to sit up, looking for any weapon he could find, but saw nothing. He realized there was an IV in his arm and he quickly ripped it out, thinking it was how they were drugging him. His determination to resist surged within him once again and if he couldn't kill Jürgen then he would kill the people helping him. His adrenalin began pumping and overcame the weakness of his body and he climbed silently out of the bed, stifling a scream as he put weight on his broken ankle and grabbing the chair to steady himself.

Chavez sensed someone near him and managed to shout out just as Deeks put him in a chokehold and pulled him back on top of him into the corner beside the bed.

"You filthy bastard," Deeks shouted in his ear. "How does it feel to barely be able to breathe?"

"Deeks!" Sam yelled as the entire team crowded into the room after hearing Chavez shout.

"Deeks, stop!" Kensi pushed through and got to him first, just as Chavez went limp in Deeks' arms.

Kensi grabbed him by the shoulders, but there was no recognition in Deeks' eyes as he continued to choke the medic. Sam was there right beside her and was able to pry his arm slightly away from Chavez's throat, but Deeks fought harder and Sam shot a questioning look at Kensi.

"Don't you dare hurt him, Sam," she shouted as they struggled to save the medic's life.

Something in her tone of voice reached Deeks, and he relaxed his arm a little and his eyes became more focused as his energy began to fade. Sam quickly pulled Chavez free of his grip and dragged him clear, while Kensi knelt in front of her suddenly exhausted partner.

"Deeks! You're safe," Kensi said as she held his face in her hands.

"Kensi?" His voice cracked softly and he fell back into the corner and began to shake his head.

"No! She's not real," he said to himself. "I'm hallucinating. It's the drugs. He's taking me some place else to kill me."

"Marty, it's me, Fern." She said the old nickname softly as she sat down next to him and pulled him into her arms. He tried to fight her briefly, but his energy was gone and the name caught his attention and he looked at her, his eyes confused and filled with terror and defeat.

"No. No. Everyone thinks I'm dead," he said as he tried to push her away. "No one's coming. No one."

"Marty, I'm here and I'm real," she whispered as she took his face in her hands again and forced him to look at her.

"Please don't do this to me," he pleaded. "Just let him kill me, please...Just let Jürgen kill me."

"No! I'm not going to let him kill you," she shouted in his face. "You're my partner and I love you, and I'm taking you home."

His eyes finally sharpened and focused on her and tears filled his eyes as his good hand reached up and touched her face.

"Did he kidnap you too?" Deeks choked out. "I couldn't bear it if he did those things to you."

"No, Marty," she said. "We all came here to bring you home. We're all here; Callen and Sam and Joe, too."

"Hey brother," Joe said quietly as he knelt behind Kensi. "You're safe, you dumb-ass."

"Joe?" Deeks blinked hard and stared at him. "You always called me that."

"That's just so you know I'm the real deal," Joe said as he touched his arm.

Deeks' reaction to his touch was electric, jerking away and then cringing in on himself and covering his head with his arms. Joe fell back in shock at the rejection, before slamming his fist into the wall. Callen pulled Joe to his feet and put his hand on his chest as he stood swaying slightly, his face full of anguish.

"That fuckin' brutal bastard," Joe said hoarsely. "What the hell did he do to him, Callen?"

Kensi wrapped her arms around Deeks once again and though he flinched and struggled, he had exhausted the adrenalin that had kept him going, so he finally allowed her to cradle him and he slowly relaxed and slipped into semi-consciousness, fitfully mumbling their names and shivering.

They all stood stunned into silence until Callen asked Hank how Chavez was and got a thumbs up in response.

"He was lucky," Sam said wearily. "We should have known better than to have a stranger be alone with him. This plane looks just like the one that flew him here and who knows what Jürgen did to him on the flight over."

"You should have let me shoot that sonofabitch, Callen," Joe said as he pushed his way out of the room.

"And you have to get yourself under control," Callen said as he followed him out into the main cabin.

Joe poured himself a glass of bourbon and downed it before turning to offer one to the angry senior agent, before pouring himself another.

"You think getting drunk is the answer to the situation?" Callen asked harshly.

"I think if I don't, I'm gonna rip this cabin to shreds," Joe answered.

"Stop it, both of you," Sam said as he walked between the two men. "Arguing with each other won't help Deeks."

"Sorry, man," Joe said as he slumped into one of the leather chairs. "Seeing him like that is just too hard. I thought when he woke up he would understand that he was safe now."

"Joe, have you ever been tortured?" Callen asked slowly.

"No." Joe looked up at Callen and saw something undefinable in his eyes, something hooded and dark in the shadows there and he waited.

"He won't trust anyone for a while," Callen said. "He's just trying to survive. You have to give him time."

"But he sounded defeated in there, Callen," Joe said, his voice distraught.

"He's also still fighting, or he wouldn't have attacked Chavey," Callen replied.

"Hank, you've seen this," Callen said to the medic who had helped Chavez into one of the chairs.

"Yeah. I should have known he might react this way," Hank answered. "Sorry, Chavey."

"I'm more embarrassed than hurt," the medic said, waving him off. "He was pumped though, stronger than he has any right to be."

"He can't help it," Mack said quietly.

"What?" Joe asked.

"I had a similar reaction every time Jürgen touched me. Not that violent, but the same," Mack said. "It was an instinctual, involuntary response. The way he touched me was like being seduced, but not by someone normal. It's like he wants to possess you."

"Deeks was at his mercy for eight days," Callen said,

"And he couldn't fight back," Sam said softly.

"Hetty knew how bad it would be," Callen said. "She told me he was in hell. She and Granger had both seen Jürgen's work before."

"Granger," Sam growled. "I don't know which one to hate more."

"I don't think Jürgen will stop looking for him," Mark said quietly. "He wants him."

"What makes you say that, Mack?" Joe asked.

"Just a feeling I got when Granger came to get him," Mark said. "He didn't want to believe Granger. It's like he had a sense Deeks was close by. It was scary."

"At least he's letting Kensi touch him," Joe said.

"She's the only one who makes him feel safe right now," Hank said.

"I'm just thankful someone can," Joe said as he dropped his head.

...

Kensi had managed to help him back on the bed and then lay down beside him as he curled into a ball of self-protection. She wrapped her arms around him, trying not to touch his broken hand, which he held close to his chest. His eyes were open, but he would only look at her briefly every once in a while. She could feel how shallow and labored his breathing was and it worried her.

"Kens?"

"Yeah, Marty?"

"Is he on the plane?"

"Who?"

"Jürgen." She felt him quiver as he spoke the name.

"No, Marty."

"Is he dead?"

"No."

She felt his body stiffen and his breath catch as he stared at her, panic clouding his pale blue eyes.

"He'll kill me next time."

"We won't let that happen, Deeks," she said firmly in a voice she always used on the job.

"He'll find a way, Kens," he said so convincingly it scared her. "He'll make me beg to be killed. That's what he wants me to do. To beg for water, beg for him to stop, beg to die."

"Deeks."

"You don't know, Kens," he said, his words coming out halting and slow and he closed his eyes tightly before continuing. "Next time, I'll give in and I will beg to die. I can't fight him anymore, Kens. I thought I could, but he's too strong. He did whatever he wanted to me and I couldn't stop him."

He stopped and took in a shaky breath, his eyes blank.

"I can still feel his hands on me, Kens. God, I hate his hands. I hated being touched by that sick bastard, and I tried, Kens...I tried so hard to resist him, to keep him out of my head. I called him every name I could think of and that really pissed him off. He wanted me to apologize, Kens, and when I refused, he made me pay for every dirty name I called him."

She heard a hollow, bitter laugh escape as he hugged himself tighter.

"It's funny," he said. "A sick, fucking monster who can't take being called dirty names."

His face was wet with tears when he finished and she struggled not to cry herself as she listened to what he had been through and it was heartbreaking. She pulled him closer, trying to let him know she would protect him, that he was safe.

"We won't let him take you again, Marty," she whispered.

He didn't say anything then, he just smiled sadly and shook his head and it made her angry. She got up, and covered him with another blanket and walked into the main cabin.

"Callen? Come back in here. You too, Sam, Joe," she said sharply. "Have your guns out and look ready to shoot anything that moves. You don't have to say anything, just surround him and be there for him. He needs to know we will fight to protect him."

"Like Thuso told us," Sam said softly as he pulled his weapon. "We need to take care of him, because he's too weak to take care of himself."

The three men followed her back into the room and took up defensive positions around the bed with Sam guarding the door. Each one had their gun where Deeks could see it and he looked at each one of them solemnly as they stood guard around him. Kensi lay down next to him again and gathered him in her arms and he didn't fight her. She could feel the tension in his body slowly ebb as he looked from one man to the other, watching as they maintained a guarded vigil around him and she felt him finally relax, his shivering easing as he fell deeper into sleep.

...

One at a time, Deeks' guards would take a break to catch a nap, but never for long. They were all exhausted physically and emotionally and Hank had insisted that they needed to rest, too. On Callen's break he called Hetty, knowing this wasn't over.

"How is he Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked.

"He's a mess, Hetty," he answered truthfully. "He tried to kill Chavez because he thought he was working for Jürgen and Granger. Kensi's the only one he'll let touch him. She said he's convinced Jürgen will find him again and kill him."

"I will call the hospital and we'll arrange to check him in under another name. It won't hurt to be cautious," Hetty said. "Nell has Granger's jet under surveillance, but it's still in Johannesburg."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Callen replied.

"I've arranged for a safe house for you and the team so you can stay close by," Hetty said. "I've also spoken with George Atwood and asked if he would consider flying to Germany to be with Deeks and he is eager to come. I think our Mr. Deeks could use a father right about now."

"He's gonna need Nate too, Hetty," Callen said. "He won't trust anyone he doesn't know."

"I'll see what I can do," Hetty said before ending the call.

...

Joe sat down in the chair next to Deeks' bed and dosed off. He thought he was dreaming when he felt someone take his hand, but he slowly opened his eyes as he felt the grip tighten.

"Joe?" Deeks eyes were turbulent and dark as he pulled himself closer.

"Hey, Marty." Joe was afraid to move and scare him away, so he sat quietly, waiting for Deeks to speak.

"Does George know I'm alive?"

"I called Dad as soon as we got in the air," Joe said. "He can't wait to see you, man. He's been riding Sheila. He says he feels close to you when he's on her."

"Tell him I'm sorry, Joe," Deeks said as he rolled onto his back and stared vacantly at the ceiling. "I never meant to cause him pain."

"You know he'd kick your ass if he heard you talking like this," Joe said, still holding onto his hand.

"He'd make me muck out stalls," Deeks said with a soft grin. "I missed him, Joe. I tried to remember everything he ever said to me, but it was so hard in that place. Jürgen said a father and son couldn't love each other, but I told him he was wrong. That made him mad, Joe and he's a brutal sonofabitch when he's mad. He only knows how to hate and he really hates me, because I resisted and because I wouldn't tell him George's name. He wants to kill me, Joe, and he will."

"He's never gonna get the chance, Marty," Joe said squeezing his hand.

"I wish I could believe that," he said as he began to fall back asleep.

"You can. You have my word," Joe told him.

"Thanks for coming, Joe," he said. "Granger told me you all thought I was dead. He showed me pictures of the memorial service. You looked like shit, brother."

"Thanks, dumb-ass, "Joe laughed. "I hope you told Granger to shove it up his ass."

"They always gagged me when he came," Deeks said as he turned to look at Joe, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"That fuckin' prick," Joe said angrily.

"Watch out for George, Joe," Deeks said softly as he slipped toward sleep. "Don't let Jürgen get near him. Promise me, Joe...promise me."

Joe felt Deeks' hand go limp as he started to softly snore and his eyes watered with enormous relief. Callen came in to relieve him and he slept for a few hours, waking only when he heard Hank call for Chavez.

"What's wrong?" Joe asked as he stuck his head in the door of the bedroom, stopping when he saw Deeks tossing in delirium on the bed.

"His temperature spiked," Sam said with concern.

"How long before we're on the ground?" Hank asked as he injected a fever reducer into his IV.

"Pilot said at least and hour," Callen answered.

"Tell him to push it," Chavez said as he checked his vital signs, giving Hank a guarded look. "His blood pressure's dropping."

"What's causing that?" Kensi asked nervously as she sat next to him on the bed.

"Could be an infection, or from the dehydration or internal bleeding," Hank said quickly, running through some of the possibilities. "None of it's good. He needs to be in trauma care as soon as possible."

The jet surged with added power as it shot through the fading night toward the first hint of dawn and no one left the room. They all silently stood vigil, knowing his battle was just beginning, but determined that he wouldn't face it alone, not this time.

...


	25. Chapter 25

**Vengeance: Chapter 25**

...

Anxiety had tempers flaring as Deeks' medical condition became urgent. Even though the pilots were pushing the jet to its limits, it didn't stop Sam and especially Joe from taking out their frustrations on the men. Kensi was barely holding herself together and snapped at anyone who spoke to her, including the medics who were doing their best to help Deeks with the limited equipment and supplies they had on board. Callen spent most of his time on the phone with Hetty, but when he wasn't, he kept checking the flight time with the pilots who were now in a defensive mode and answering all questions with decidedly short replies. Mack just tried to stay out of everyone's way by sitting in the far corner of the bedroom, sadly watching Deeks struggle, his breathing extremely labored and his body and face slick with sweat as his fever continued to climb. He occasionally shouted out obscenities, but then would cover his face with his arms as if waiting to be hit. His low moans and pleadings for water and death left everyone shaken, even Hank and Chavez, who were becoming as frustrated as everyone else as they tried everything they could to lower his fever.

"Hank?" Callen sent a questioning look that needed no words.

"104" Hank said. "If it gets any higher I'm afraid he'll go into convulsions and I'm not sure we'll be able to stop them."

"Isn't that your job?" Kensi asked harshly.

"Kens," Callen said sharply. "They're doing the best they can."

"I know. I'm sorry guys," she said with regret, her eyes suddenly wet with tears. "I just can't bear to see him like this."

"Yeah? Well we're not too happy about it either," Chavez snapped back.

Sam came into the room just as the medic spoke and grabbed him by the shirt.

"Hey! Watch how you talk to her," Sam said in the medic's face.

The two men struggled briefly with each other until Callen put his hands on each one's shoulder.

"Enough," Callen's voice was low and controlled and the two men took a step back from each other, their anger still fresh.

Then they all paused as they felt the plane begin to descend.

"Thank God," Mack said softly, a light smile flickering on his face.

Unwittingly, he reached out and gripped Deeks' forearm, causing him to go rigid and then pant heavily as his eyes opened in shock. He turned his head to look at Mack and the young man smiled at him and Deeks looked confused for a second, but then smiled back before slowly closing his eyes. His breathing seemed to ease a little then and everyone turned to stare at Mack.

"What? I touched him without thinking," Mack quickly tried to explain. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I think you're the only one who's smiled at him since we brought him on board," Sam said.

"Plus, you don't look very threatening," Callen said as he started toward the main cabin.

"Prepare for landing," one of the pilots announced over the intercom, lightening everyone's mood as Ramstein Air Base finally came into view.

"I really appreciate this jet, but I can't wait to get Marty off of it," Joe said, voicing what everyone was feeling.

...

When the plane finally taxied to its designated area an ambulance and tactical squad was waiting, making everyone aware that Hetty was now in charge and using her considerable pull to get them everything they needed. She was on the phone to Callen as soon as the plane stopped rolling, giving him information on the tact squad leader, the doctor who would be treating Deeks and the assumed name he was being admitted under. The team stood silently as Deeks was carried from the plane on a gurney, still shivering with fever. Hank went with him in the ambulance after a brief argument with Kensi, who was only persuaded to give in by the tactical squad leader who offered her a private car and driver to follow them to Landstuhl Medical Center. The squad leader tried to convince the others that they should go to the safe house that had been provided, but the looks he received made him realize he wouldn't win the argument.

"You want to stay with your man," Agent Shields said with understanding. "My team is at your disposal, Special Agent Callen. Miss Lange has apprised us of the situation and we have been given permission to be the only guards Agent Deeks will have during his stay."

"Call me Callen," he said briskly as he headed for the waiting SUVs. "Deeks will be checked in under the name James Ruston and no one is to be given access to him except his doctor and the three nurses assigned to him and the people you just met. One of us will be with him at all times and you don't do anything until you clear it with me. Your men are not to enter his room unless he's in danger. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," Agent Shields replied. "Anyone we should be on the lookout for, sir?"

"You'll be receiving that information from our tech Eric Beale," Callen said as he got in the lead car.

"Callen?" Mack called out quietly. "What about me? Where do I go?"

"For now, you're with us," Callen said. "The plane is staying here in case we need it. Hetty has already spoken to your boss and you've been temporarily reassigned to OSP and are now a member of my team."

Mack looked stunned and had to rush to keep up with the fast moving agents.

...

The day turned into a waiting game for the exhausted team. They hadn't seen or heard anything about Deeks since he was taken off the plane and that did nothing for their state of mind. Kensi especially was near the end of her endurance and if Sam and Joe hadn't talked her out of it, she would have stormed into the back rooms of the trauma center and tracked him down.

"It's been over three hours," she said angrily. "Why hasn't anyone come and talked to us? I need to know how he is. Where's Hank? He went with him in the ambulance. He has to know something."

"Calm down, Kensi," Chavez said sharply, unaware of the danger his comment put him in. "They're putting him through all kinds of tests and..."

She didn't allowed him to finish, getting in his face before anyone could stop her.

"You think I don't know that?" she shouted, her hand clutching and pulling at the front of his shirt.

"Kensi," Sam said softly and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder and walked her away from the shocked paramedic.

"Callen, I was just trying to help her understand," Chavez said.

"She's not thinking rationally right now, Chavey," Callen said. "She's scared. We're all anxious to know how he is."

Mack came in and hesitated, sensing the mounting tension in the private waiting room. He had brought everyone lunch and silently began passing out sandwiches and soft drinks. Kensi paid no attention to him or the sandwich, staring blankly at the double doors to the trauma center.

"Find her some candy bars or donuts," Joe said softly to Mack. "Deeks always said she ran on sugar and I think she could use some right now."

Mack nodded and headed back the way he came. He returned quickly with a handful of different candy bars and a box of donuts, causing Sam and Callen to smile at each other and breathe a little easier. He piled them all in front of Kensi and then sat down beside her.

"I got these for you, Kensi." He unwrapped a chocolate bar and held it in front of her face until he got her attention. She took it from his hand and quietly ate it and then noticed the donuts and picked one up, smiling gently at him as she slowly finished that off as well.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "Deeks used to bring me candy when I was upset."

"It worked for my sister too. She used to live on sweets," Mack said. "My dad would always take her out for dessert whenever he was home. Man, could she put it away. Funny thing was, she never gained any weight."

"Sounds like you're close to your family," Kensi said softly as she picked up another candy bar. "You should call them. They might be worried about you."

"No need, Kensi," Mack said as he stood up. "Anything else I can get you?"

"Mack?" Kensi reached up and took his hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just trying to make myself useful," Mack said hastily before walking away.

She was about to call him back when she saw a familiar face coming into the waiting area.

"Dad!" Joe said as he hurried to embrace his father. They held on to each other for quite awhile, until George finally stepped back and looked intently at his son, his hands placed firmly on his shoulders.

"You look pretty ragged, son," George said. "How's Marty?"

"Haven't heard anything yet." Joe said.

George nodded without a word and then saw Kensi standing behind Joe, her face vulnerable and her eyes shining with tears. In two strides he was in front of her and enveloped her in one of his signature hugs, not letting go as she began to cry softly into his chest, releasing all the pent up emotion she had been holding in check. He held her tightly and whispered to her until she was back in control. Then he walked her back to the couch and sat down next to her as the others moved closer in support.

"No one will tell us anything," she said, wiping her face with a hanky George gave her. "His fever was so high he was delirious, saying awful things about wanting to die. George, we got him out but he still believes Jürgen is going to find him and kill him."

"You're not gonna let that happen, are you darlin'," George stated with a calming smile. "He's out of his head, but you know the people in this room will do everything to protect him. Marty's strong, Kensi. He's alive and you and I both know he's fighting, no matter what he's saying now, deep down he's a fighter."

Kensi smiled and gripped his hand tightly and took a deep breath.

"I'm glad you're here, George," she said. "He's been calling your name."

"Guys?" Hank called out as he entered the room. "Sorry. I tried to come earlier, but they ended up rushing Deeks into surgery, and I stayed until the doc gave me an update. One of his broken ribs punctured his left lung and it partially collapsed. Probably happened when he pulled Chavey over on top of him."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Joe asked tightly with worry.

"Eventually," Hank said. "Doctor Standish doesn't have all the labs and test results back, but he did tell me his liver and kidneys are badly swollen from the beatings he took and he's suffering from sepsis, a blood infection, which accounts for the low blood pressure and high fever he was running. Hetty arranged for a specialist to work on his broken hand and ankle, so he'll be in surgery for quite a while. Then he'll be placed in ICU."

"When can we see him?" Sam asked.

"Soon as they get him into a room," Hank answered. "One of his nurses will let us know."

"When can we get him home?" George asked.

Hank looked over at Callen with a questioning look, having no idea who was asking.

"This is Joe's dad, George Atwood," Callen said.

"Marty's like a son to me, young man," George said pointedly. "So I'm anxious to see him and to get him back to familiar surroundings."

"Understood, sir," Hank said. "I'll have to let his doctor give you that information. Sorry. They're a little pissed at me right now."

"You being pushy again, Hank?" Chavez laughed.

"Something like that," he answered.

After he and Chavez headed off so he could get a quick lunch, the team resumed their various places, waiting for the doctor. Kensi stayed close to George and Joe while Mack hovered around Callen and Sam.

"You guys look like hell warmed over," Nate said, as he stood unnoticed in the doorway. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt that read "Air Force" in big bold letters.

"You join up, Nate?" Sam asked with a big smile, fingering his shirt as he broke from their hug.

"Didn't have any warm clothes where I was working," Nate said softly, with a self-deprecating smile. "So I had to buy these when I got off the transport at Ramstein. Not used to the cold weather."

"Gonna tell us where you've been or should I just guess and keep it to myself?" Callen asked.

"Guess so," Nate said as Kensi gave him a warm hug. "How is he?"

"He's in surgery," she answered. "Nate, this is Joe Atwood and his dad, George."

"I've heard a little about you both," Nate smiled as he shook each man's hand warmly. "Hetty has nice things to say about both of you and how much you helped Deeks after the Lee Chao op. I understand you have taken him into your family."

"He saved my boy's life," George said. "And after I got to know him a little, he was kinda hard to let go of."

"Is it true he learned to ride a horse?" Nate asked with a grin.

"He walked bow-legged for a bit and used up all my horse liniment, but he finally got the hang of it," George laughed.

Nate talked comfortably with George and Joe, but soon excused himself and sought out Callen and Sam for a first hand report on what Deeks had gone through.

"How bad was it, Callen?" Nate asked.

"It was brutal," Callen said. "A former Stasi agent tortured him for eight days."

"Nell sent me the file on Jürgen," Nate said. "Bad news."

"That's an understatement," Sam said, his anger plain for Nate to see.

Callen described in detail what they did know about Deeks' physical ordeal and watched as Nate's usually placid features took on the same look of outrage they'd all had when they'd discovered what Jürgen had done to him.

"How are the rest of you handling this?" Nate could see the turmoil in all of their eyes.

"We should have killed that asshole when we had the chance," Joe said bitterly as he joined the group.

"And you think that would help Deeks' cope with what happened to him?" Nate asked him. "Or would it help you deal with it?"

"Both." Joe's anger coursed through him for all to see. "He's terrified of that fuckin' monster and is convinced he'll captured him again and kill him. We should have made sure that wouldn't happen."

"We couldn't risk a firefight right then, Joe, and you know it," Callen said, barely containing himself as he took a step toward Joe.

"We'll deal with him," Sam said, stepping between the two men. "Right now we need to concentrate of making sure Deeks is safe."

"Sounds like you all have unresolved anger over this," Nate said. "And that's understandable, but you can't take it out on each other or you'll lose your ability to work as a team. You need to trust each other or this won't work."

No one said anything after that. They each retreated, finding their own way of dealing with the waiting. Nate had gone in search of a coffee machine when George approached him.

"Love's a funny thing isn't it?" George said as Nate sipped his coffee. "So much more powerful than the word sounds. Each one of those men loves Marty in their own way, but they really don't know how to express it when something bad happens, so they strike out."

"They're used to physically dealing with any threat that puts one of them in harm's way," Nate answered. "They're men of action, so waiting brings out all sorts of side effects."

"Joe lost his older brother in Iraq," George said. "When we got the news, he tore up a bar, threatened anyone who came near him with a gun and went to jail. The day they let him out, he joined up."

"Revenge is one way to deal with the pain of such a great loss," Nate said softly.

"He and Deeks are like brothers," George told him. "When Joe thought he had lost him, he almost fell apart. There was no one to take his hurt out on except himself. Now he's afraid of losing him again and he's angry and I'm not sure he can control it."

"What about you George? How are you taking this?" Nate asked.

"I love Marty like he's my own son and it would kill me to lose him," George said, staring off into space. "I know love is powerful, but so is hate and I'm afraid hate might just win out if Marty doesn't survive this. I don't know much about the man who did this to him and Joe won't tell me how badly he treated Marty, but the sonofabitch will have his hands full if he tries to get to Marty again. I might be just an old cowboy, but I don't let anyone mess with my family."

The last sentence was spoken quietly, but dripped with venom and complete conviction and Nate instinctively took a step back from the man. He knew people were never what they seemed on the surface, but this man and the words he had spoken had surprised him and that didn't happen very often.

"I train horses for a living, Nate." George looked solemnly into the psychologist's eyes as he spoke. "And I've seen quite a few abused horses in my time. I understand what they went through and what it did to them. It's how I knew Marty had been abused as a child. Some abused horses are beaten so badly they never recover and are no good for anything and some blossom when they find out not everyone is gonna hurt 'em, but some just become downright mean and dangerous and might as well be put down before they hurt somebody. I'd say this Jürgen guy is like that, meaner than shit and needs to be put down. If he comes near Marty again, I'll do just that."

George nodded at the stunned psychologist and walked silently away.

...

It was dark outside before they were able to see Deeks in the ICU. He was allowed two visitors at a time and all of them stood back to let Kensi and George be the first in to see him. He was hooked up to multiple machines and monitors and was on intravenous fluids, antibiotics and pain meds and had been intubated and placed on a ventilator to help him breathe. He was swathed in warming blankets and George seemed shocked when he saw him.

"Why did they shave his head?" he asked quietly.

"I think that was Granger's doing," Kensi told him as she reached out and took Deeks' good hand. "The nurses must have shaved his beard to get to all the cuts on his face. He looks so young this way."

She turned to look at George when she spoke and saw the glint of tears in his eyes. His face hardened and his jaw was clinched tight as he slowly pulled the covers down to reveal the telltale crisscrossed marks from the ropes that had held him so cruelly for so long, his body dark with multiple bruises. He looked shaken and had a tight grip on the bed railing as his eyes traveled over the body of the man he called son. Then he broke. Tears streamed down his face and Kensi quickly wrapped him in her arms, holding onto the tough old cowboy while he grieved for his battered son.

"He didn't deserve this," George choked out as Kensi pulled the blankets back up to cover him. "I knew it was bad, but the men who did this need to be run to ground and shown no mercy."

"George, he'll need our help to get past this," Kensi said. "He needs to know he's not alone."

"He needs to know they're dead," George said as he rested his calloused hand on Deeks' bare shoulder.

Kensi hadn't known George very long and now was certain she didn't really know him at all. He had always seemed kind of folksy to her, gentle and kind and loving, which he was, but now she saw a different side of him, a side that revealed the depth of his feelings for family and his determination to protect that family at all costs. She could sense a hardness there in the core of his being, brilliant in its intensity and cold in its unrelenting nature and she found herself slightly taken aback by it.

"George, we'll take care of Granger and Jürgen," she said. "You just need to be here for Marty."

"I won't leave his side until this is over," his voice was deep and strong and his eyes never left Deeks' face, his strong hand firmly planted on his son's shoulder.

...


	26. Chapter 26

**Vengeance: Chapter 26**

...

The first thing he realized was that he was not in pain. His mind floated in a white, cloudy haze and he couldn't quite break free of it, but the sensations he felt were of lying on something soft, his body wrapped in a feeling of comfort and warmth, so he knew he must be dreaming. He sensed someone moving toward him and he tensed in anticipation, waiting for the hated hands to begin their exploration of his body. He knew if he moved too much it would catch Jürgen's attention and the pain would come and he didn't want that so he struggled to open his eyes to see where he was and who was near him. The footsteps didn't sound familiar and that frightened him and panic began to rise in his chest and his breathing quickened. If it was Granger coming then he knew he would be gagged and he decided to try and fight it this time, if he could. He felt no ropes on him, but one hand was heavy and he was unable to raise it and knew that he must be tied down.

"No gag...please...no gag," he murmured as his fear grew.

Then someone touched him and he cried out. He tried to strike out with the hand not tied down, but it became entangled in soft lines and then he began to thrash, setting off alarms that confused him. As he fought to free himself, he felt a strong, rough hand on his chest and he yelled out in anger.

"Don't touch me you fuckin' bastard!" He shouted, but remembering he would suffer for those words, he suddenly stopped moving and became rigid.

"Marty. I'm here son and I won't let anyone hurt you," George said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion.

Deeks slowly opened his eyes at the familiar voice; fear gripping him so hard he couldn't breathe.

"No. No... Don't hurt him," he yelled. "George, you shouldn't be here...please get away. He'll hurt you and I'm not strong enough to stop him." By the end, his voice was just a whisper of tears.

"It's just me son," George said soothingly as he took his hand and gripped it firmly. "We're all alone. Just you and me, no one else."

He focused on that calm, comforting voice and tears slipped silently down his cheeks as he stared into George's steely gray eyes and took a shaky breath.

"Where are we?" he whispered.

"In a military hospital in Germany, son," George said firmly. "He can't get to you here."

"How long have I been here?" he asked, looking around the room.

"Three days," George told him.

"You came all the way to Germany to see me?" Deeks blinked drowsily as he slowly smiled.

"You're here and you needed me, son," George said, "Where else would I be?"

Deeks closed his eyes then and seemed to sleep and George relaxed slightly, but then Deeks clutched his hand tightly and pulled him closer, his eyes wild.

"Is he dead?" Deeks asked.

"Not yet," George answered.

"Don't try and fight him, George," he pleaded. "He asked me about you, but I wouldn't tell him your name. He made me pay for that. He's vicious and the bastard made me pay."

Then Deeks began to mumble something that George couldn't understand and he felt the hair rise up on the back of his neck and arms as he witnessed the fear in the grimace on his face. He reached out and rested his hand on his shoulder and felt him shrink from his touch, his eyes opening suddenly, wide with terror until their eyes locked. Then Deeks began to breathe easier when he saw it was George.

"How did anyone know I was still alive?" He asked. "Granger showed me photos and told me everyone thought I was dead. He told me no one would come for me. No one."

"We all believed you'd been killed, son," George answered. "Everyone except Kensi."

"She's here," Deeks said with a soft smile. "I think I remember talking to her. I thought Jürgen had taken her too."

"She's safe, Marty, and so are you," George said. "Callen and the team caught the photographer who took the pictures. He had sent them to Granger and that was like wavin' a red flag in front of a bull when your team found that out. You got a lot of really smart and determined people on your side, son."

"They came to get me, didn't they?" He said.

"We did, but you had help before we ever got there," Sam said from the doorway. "Remember a couple of little boys in South Africa?"

"Is that where I was?"

Deeks became introspective then, staring off to one side as memories assailed him. Tears pooled in his eyes as he quietly recounted what the two boys had done.

"Their names were Thuso and Dikobo," he said, choking up as he spoke. "I would never have survived without them. I was shocked when Thuso came back with Dikobo and he climbed up an fed me. God...how will I ever be able to thank them?"

"They told their parents about how you saved Thuso from one of the Afrikaners," Sam said as he stood at the foot of the bed. "Their whole village rescued you and that's where we found you."

"If they hadn't, Jürgen would have killed me the next day," Deeks said, his eyes staring blankly up toward the ceiling.

He turned his head away from them then, suddenly distracted from the two boys and caught up in horrible memories of his time with Jürgen he knew no one would ever understand. Jürgen's voice echoed in his head and his whole body began to quiver as flashes of the man's face next to his own and whispered warnings in his ear tormented him. He could still feel the ghost of Jürgen's hands moving over his whole body, touching and stroking and then hitting and punishing him and he began to moan softly as the haunting memories seem to blot out everything and everyone in the room. His right hand pulsed in pain suddenly and he felt warm tears on his face as dark, rancid words filled his head and he struggled to escape them, but knew he never would. His breathing became labored and he began to hyperventilate as the sickening memories exploded behind his eyes and sweat broke out on his body. The monitors began to sound alerts as he continued to struggle, lifting himself up from the bed in an attempt to escape, to run from the horrors locked deep within his mind.

George and Sam looked quickly at each other and could see the shock on the other's face at the change that had come over him and they instinctively moved to reassure him. George took his hand and gripped it tightly as he moved closer, placing his other hand firmly on his shoulder, attempting to hold him down. Sam pushed the call button before moving to the other side of the bed, but afraid to touch him, recalling his reaction on the plane. Instead, he began to shush him like he did with his children when they woke from a nightmare.

"Look at me, Deeks," Sam finally said.

His voice was strong and commanding and he took a deep breath as Deeks stopped fighting to get up and looked at him. He was panting in pain and fear, but Sam's voice got through to him.

"I'm going to tell you a story about the village and the people who rescued you," Sam said softly with a smile. "I want you to focus on that, okay? Cause those are good memories, Deeks."

Sam's voice came out warm and calm as he spun out the story. Deeks' eyes never once left his face and he didn't notice when one of the nurses came in and reset the monitors and injected his IV with something for his anxiety. His eyes finally began to blink slowly as the meds kicked in and Sam's words filled his head with new images and he smiled softly occasionally, especially when told how Thuso had vehemently instructed the team to take care of him while Dikobo shook his finger at them. When Sam finished, he simply closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Sam sat down then and pinched his eyes shut as he shook his head.

"You know what that man did to him, don't you?" George asked.

"Yeah, I do and it will give me nightmares for a long time," Sam said, "So I can't imagine what it's doing to Deeks."

"You just saw what it's doing to him," George said with a flash of anger.

"George, we'll get him through this," Sam said firmly. "It won't be easy, but there are a lot of people he can talk to who know what it's like to go through something like this."

"Are you one of them?" George asked.

"I've been through some tough situations I didn't think I'd survive," Sam said. "But, nothing like what Jürgen put Deeks through."

"He'll come after him again won't he?" George looked back at Deeks as he spoke, his hands gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Some of us think so, but we're not really sure," Sam said as he stood to go. "But we'll be ready if he does."

"Thank you, Sam," George said as he stood to shake his hand. "That story helped him. Sure makes me want to meet those good people."

Sam nodded at George before looking solemnly over at Deeks.

"Did he ever tell you how annoyed I was with him when he first came to work with us?" Sam asked with a small laugh as George shook his head. "He was such a wiseass, still is really, but eventually I realized how that humor of his eased some of the daily tension. He'd make odd jokes at the weirdest times or start a monologue about some new age idea that honestly made me what to choke him out."

Sam paused and his smile disappeared.

"What he did after Lee Chao almost killed the three of us made me realize what a strong, brave man he is, but he can still piss me off," Sam continued. "He didn't take this thing seriously enough when it started and it got him shot. That scared me and I'm still scared for him. I can tell you George, knowing what he went through at the hands of that man and Granger makes me sick and I hate seeing what it's done to him."

Sam stopped talking then, staring down at Deeks as he slept. He took a few moments to collect himself and felt George's strong grip on his forearm.

"I'm glad he found you and Joe," Sam said softly. "He's been a lonely kid most of his life and finally finding a family to belong to has changed him for the better, made him calmer. He'll need your help to overcome this."

"You're his family too, Sam. All of you are," George said.

"He is kinda like an annoying kid brother," Sam laughed. He took a last look at Deeks before saying goodnight and walking out.

George sat down once again beside the bed, his emotions strong and close to the surface. He had never questioned his feelings for this newest member of his family, he had just accepted those feelings as a natural occurrence. You don't get to choose your parents and your blood relations come as gifts into your life as do your own children. You do choose whom to marry and his own choice had been made for him by the love of his life, Josie, his wife. She had pursued him and it still surprised him that a woman so strong and beautiful would want anything to do with the rough and tumble ranch hand he had been when they first met. He had been blessed with her love and companionship for fourteen amazing years and as he looked at Deeks he knew she would have taken to him immediately.

She was always picking up strays and bringing them home to nurture, making them part of the family and teaching him what kindness truly meant along the way. He hadn't grown up with that knowledge; it was her gift to him. Deeks had reminded him of one of her strays the moment he'd met him. He'd heard stories about him from Joe whenever they had talked on the phone, but he never got a distinct impression of him until he saw his reaction to the kindness he had offered him. The young man hadn't known quite what to do with it and sometimes still didn't. He was "a work in progress" as Josie used to say, as she would struggle to feed some skinny little feral dog she'd found who was afraid to let her near him. She'd never give up though, working hard to gain his trust until that skittish mutt wouldn't let her out of his sight and would growl at anyone who said a rough word to her and she would do the same for him in return. No one messed with one of Josie's strays.

George suddenly felt the need to touch his boy, to comfort him as best he could so he would know he wasn't alone and that he would be by his side for whatever came next. He needed him to feel the hand of kindness now, to know that all hands didn't cause you pain, that the hand of a father could bring solace. He was angry that the man who had done this had stolen something so valuable from him, his sense of peace. He remembered how skittish Marty had been those first few days at the ranch and George had worked hard to convince him of the truth of his words, that he was truly family and deserved to be loved and hugged once in a while. He desperately needed to believe that a kind hand could heal his son's broken soul. Jürgen had destroyed all of that and George felt a deep hatred for the man.

Deeks stirred as George rested his hand on his bare arm, flinching slightly in his sleep and it saddened him. He kept his hand there though, thinking of Josie and her determination. It was what his son needed now, a commitment from all of them to return that sense of peace to his soul and he would fight long and hard to do that.

...

It was almost three o'clock in the morning when Callen stepped silently into Deeks' room, noticing that George Atwood had fallen asleep in the chair, his hand firmly clasped in Deeks'. As he moved to the end of the bed, he saw the rancher stir and open his eyes, seeing something just beneath the surface there that surprised him.

"It's okay, Mr. Atwood," Callen reassured him, recognizing the guarded stance of the man and the hint of danger in his eyes. He'd come up against all sorts of adversaries in his life, and had seen that look before, and it always put him on guard. He didn't think George Atwood was a man to be taken lightly.

"Call me George," he said as he stretched to get the kinks out. "Didn't know it was that late, or early I guess."

"I'll sit with him awhile if you want to go get some sleep," Callen offered.

George searched Deeks' face before nodding in agreement and standing, finally letting go of his hand.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," George said, briefly resting his hand on the back of Callen's neck, surprising him once again. "I know he'll be safe with you here."

Then he was gone. Callen felt a strange stirring of emotions as the man left, somehow wishing that he had stayed. There was a charisma about him he found compelling, a strength that emanated from him that was seductive and comforting. Deeks was fortunate to have such a man care about him and Callen experienced a sudden sense of longing.

"Want some company?" Nate asked, startling Callen from his thoughts. "I saw George Atwood leaving. He's an interesting man."

"I think that's an understatement, Nate," Callen said, his face introspective.

"He surprised you, too," Nate said as he moved close to the bed and looked critically at the man lying there. His eyes swept over all the monitors, noting his vital signs and shaking his head slightly before sitting down.

"Not the kind of man you should underestimate," Callen said as he settled into the other chair.

"Neither is Deeks," Nate said.

"Is that what you think we do?" Callen asked.

"You did in the past," Nate said. "But I have a feeling that's changed."

"I assume Hetty filled you in on the Lee Chao operation," Callen said as Nate nodded solemnly. "None of us underestimate him after that."

"She said some of the closeness that developed during that time was lost just before he was taken," Nate said quietly, watching intently for Callen's reaction.

"Sam was having a hard time with his attitude and frankly so was I," Callen answered. "Kensi was with him at the safe house and they were getting on each other's nerves, fighting rather than bickering like they usually do."

"And you?" Nate's eyebrows rose as he asked.

"He beat the crap out of me, Nate," Callen laughed. "Surprised the hell out of me. I definitely underestimated him then, but I didn't hold it against him if that's what you want to know."

"How about when he was taken?" Nate asked. "Were you angry with him?"

"Nate," Callen's tone held a warning, as did his eyes.

"It had to affect you, Callen," Nate said reasonably in that soft, pleasing voice that always made Callen suspicious.

"Did Hetty put you up to this?" Callen asked.

"No. Director Vance did," Nate said softly. "He's worried about what this whole thing has done to the team and he wants to make sure you're all operational and not emotionally compromised."

"You mean are we too pissed off to do our jobs?" Callen smirked.

"Something like that," Nate said. "He wants to make sure you can control yourselves."

"And Hetty had nothing to do with this?" Callen asked.

"She might have dropped a tiny hint to the Director," Nate acquiesced with a smile.

"She should be more worried about Deeks than the rest of us," Callen retorted a little overly loud, causing Nate to look at him sharply.

"Do you think that's a fair assessment of Hetty's feelings?" Nate asked.

"Don't twist my words, Nate," Callen growled.

"You didn't answer my original question," Nate said. "Were you angry at Deeks for slipping up and letting himself get taken?"

Callen didn't say anything, rising instead to stand next to Deeks' bed. He looked down at him for the longest time, his face unreadable.

"He's not like the rest of us, Nate," Callen said gently. "He's not jaded and he cares a little too much. He's idealistic and I think that's tough to be in this business. The funny thing is, it's one of the things that makes him a valuable agent. He wants to help people and they know it so they talk to him. They open up to him because he listens and cares about who they are and what they think."

Callen looked back at Nate briefly before going to the window and staring out into the dark night.

"He knew we were wrong about Yakiv Proczko, the man we thought was trying to kill him," Callen said. "He knew because he recognized that the man loved his daughter and would never kill her. I basically told him he didn't know what he was talking about, that he was only seeing what he wanted to see. That's when he beat the shit out of me."

Callen turned to lean against Deeks' bed and Nate could tell he was struggling with his emotions.

"If I had listened to him, he might not be lying in this bed right now, beat to hell and having screaming nightmares whenever someone touches him," Callen choked out. "So, to answer your question, Nate. I'm not angry at Deeks, but I'm mad as hell at myself."

"This is not your fault, Callen," Nate said earnestly.

"Isn't it?" Callen replied. "I wake up asking myself why I didn't believe him every single day and I still don't have the answer. Why didn't any of us even consider it, Nate? Why didn't I? I'm supposed to be the team leader, yet I blindly followed every clue Granger and Jürgen dropped in my lap. What kind of leader does that make me, Nate?"

"A human one," Nate answered.

"Or an unfit one," Callen whispered.

"This isn't like you, G," Nate said softly. "You can't carry the guilt for this any more than Hetty can. She wanted me to come here because she knows what you're feeling because she feels the same way."

"We should have trusted his instincts," Callen said quietly. "Hetty and I are both guilty on that count."

"That's what she said," Nate told him. "But her anger is directed at Granger, not at you or anyone else. It's a deep held anger, Callen, because he involved Jürgen. She wants him held accountable for that and she wants you to do it."

"Is Granger that good?" Callen wondered aloud. "He's the one we underestimated, Nate, and we better not do it again, or Deeks will pay for it, again."

...


	27. Chapter 27

**Vengeance: Chapter 27**

...

"Deeks?"

"Yeah, Kens," he mumbled sleepily.

"Your head's all fuzzy," she said, her barely contained laughter a pleasant undertone. "You look like a peach."

"You're comparing me to a piece of fruit? Really?" He asked, cracking open one eye.

"I'm just saying," she smiled warmly at him. "Can I rub your head?"

He tensed a little, but nodded, trying to control the instant anxiety that had flared when she mentioned her desire. He closed his eyes as she ran her hands over the peach fuzz that passed for his hair these days. He wanted to indulge her, grateful for her company and the semblance of normalcy she brought him, but he was still struggling with the fear that rippled through him whenever he was touched. He had spoken with Nate about it and knew it would take time, so, he took Nate's suggestion that he allow those closest to him to touch him after they had asked his permission, letting him be prepared. Sometimes it worked, like now with Kensi.

"That actually feels pretty good," he told her, trying to disassociate the feel of her hands from the feel of Jürgen's.

He'd been in a private room for almost five days, having been released from the ICU after a full week. His doctor had been encouraging him to sit in a chair for a couple of hours a day and that's what he was doing now, but his badly broken ankle still prevented him from walking. He tried to ignore his right hand, only feeling anger and a flash of intense remembered pain whenever he looked at it.

He was sitting up, facing the window, the softly falling snow reminding him of his last time at the ranch. Kensi caressed his head lightly, her hand finally sliding down to rest on his cheek as she leaned in closer, hoping he wouldn't pull away or flinch at her closeness. When he didn't, she leaned even closer, kissing him lightly on the lips, surprising him. His eyes brightened, their pale blue contrasting with the purple bruising that still surrounded them.

"What was that for?" he asked, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I like peaches," she said, kissing him again.

"You do like sweets," he laughed softly.

She held his face in her hands and kissed him ever so gently around his eyes and she could feel him trembling.

"Is this too much?" she asked, taking her hands away from his face and sitting back, watching him with barely controlled emotions.

He took her hand in his one good one and brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers, his eyes never leaving her face.

"I was afraid to think about you for a while, Kens," he said. "I was a shit that last day we were together and I almost couldn't bear to think that our last words to each other were angry ones."

"I found your note," she said, the words catching in her throat. "I still have it."

"I'm sorry for the things I said," he told her.

"None of that matters now," she said firmly. "But, you did promise me dinner in that text you sent."

"I can offer you jello," he said with a growing smile. "I think it must be the universal snack in hospitals worldwide."

"You think I'm going to let you off that easily?" she said as she took the offered green jello.

"I hope you don't," he said.

He looked away from her then, staring out the window as he felt a sudden chill shiver down his spine.

"Do you think I'll ever be me again?" He whispered.

She quickly put down the jello and pulled her chair as close as possible and reached out to take him in her arms. He resisted briefly, but she didn't let him go and he slowly let his head drop onto her shoulder as her arms encircled him and held him tight. His body was tense, almost rigid, so she slowly rubbed her hands up and down on his back until she felt his muscles relax. Finally, she felt his hand move up her shoulder and his fingers gently entwined themselves in her hair and his warm breath on her neck sent a ripple of want deep down inside.

"God, Kens, you smell so good," he said softly and then kissed her lightly beneath the ear.

He raised his head and searched her face before kissing her tenderly on the lips. His thumb caressed her cheek as he smiled softly at her and then covered her mouth with a deep kiss of longing. Her hands moved across the scruff on his cheek to take his head in her hands and their kiss deepened, only breaking when they needed to breathe. They held each other's faces then, their noses slightly touching and their eyes brimming with tears until they began to laugh softly at the joy of being together. Then he began to cover her face with gentle kisses.

"I dreamed of this, Kensi," he said as his cheek rested against hers. "I thought dreams were all I had left of you."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked, leaning back from her.

"For not finding you sooner," she said as her eyes misted with tears.

His head dropped and he reached for his right hand, which was encased in plaster and pulled it close to his chest, cradling it there. He seemed to withdraw into himself then and when she reached out and touched him, he flinched and pulled away.

"Don't," he said, his voice a low growl.

"Marty, please," she said.

"I don't blame you, Kens," he said roughly. "So, please don't blame yourself. I don't blame anyone but Granger and Jürgen."

"We'll find them, Marty," she said angrily.

"He's always there in my head, Kens," he said. "He would cradle my head on his shoulder, like you just did. He would tell me about things I didn't want to hear. He told me how he cut his own father to ribbons over three days, Kens, the whole time crushing my broken hand in his fist. I can't look at my own right hand without thinking of him."

He looked into her shocked face and shook his head.

"How do I get that out of my head, Kens?" He asked in anguish. "How? I want us to be able to touch each other like we used to without his face being in my mind and thinking of his hands instead of yours."

"Oh God, Marty," she said as tears spilled down her face, her hand reaching out to rest on his leg.

"Don't touch me right now, Kens," he said, pushing himself back further into his chair. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'll let you be for awhile. But I'll be back. You know that right? I'm not going to let him win, Marty. I love you too much to do that."

He stared out the window after she left, watching the snow soften the rooflines of the buildings outside. He looked down at his hand once again and it began to throb as his mind was drawn back to that night with Jürgen. His breathing quickened as his heart began pounding in his ears and he reached for the glass of water on the table, spilling some of it as he drank, his hand trembling and clammy as he clutched it tightly.

"Fuck!" He shouted and threw the glass to the floor.

The guard outside heard the crash and opened the door to the room with his hand on his weapon and Deeks' eyes flashed wildly in panic when the man moved toward him. He rose quickly from the chair, trying to distance himself from the man, but his broken ankle wouldn't support him and he slipped in the water on the floor and fell heavily, the cast on his right hand slamming sharply into his fractured ribs, his scream stopping the guard in his tracks. Joe heard it from the hallway and charged into the room, grabbing the guard and shoving him bodily out the door. Then he was on his knees next to Deeks, easing him onto his back and talking quietly to him as his nurses surrounded them.

"I've got your back, man," Joe said. "I threw the asshole out, Marty. There's just me and a couple of your pretty nurses."

Deeks eyes showed pure fear before closing. Then he reached for Joe's hand, gripping it hard as the nurses injected his IV with anti-anxiety and pain medication.

"Is he one of Jürgen's men?" Deeks asked shakily.

"No Marty. He's NCIS," Joe told him. "He wasn't supposed to come in your room, man, and as soon as you're back in bed I'm gonna kick his butt for disobeying orders."

Deeks laughed softly at that and opened his eyes, looking up at Joe with relief.

"My old kick-ass partner rides to the rescue," Deeks said, finally breathing easier as Joe and one of the nurses helped him up.

"You look like you peed your pants, dumbass," Joe said.

"I probably did," he answered.

"Let me help you take those scrubs off and I'll get you a new set, Marty," one of the nurse said.

"Why do women always want to get you out of your pants, Deeks?" Joe asked.

He noticed the way Deeks tensed at that and took a step back.

"I'll leave if you want me too, man," Joe said.

"Yeah, thanks," Deeks said, looking down at the floor.

"But, just so you know," Joe said as he headed for the door. "I don't find you all that attractive without your hair."

Joe heard a genuine laugh from his old partner as he closed the door behind him as he left. When he saw Sam and Callen talking to the guard by the nurses' station, his jaw hardened and he made his way purposefully toward the man. He came up behind him and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around to face him and then hit him solidly in the mouth, knocking him to the ground. Sam immediately stepped between them as Callen helped the man up.

"What the hell are you doing, Atwood?" Sam shouted in his face.

"This asshole went into Deeks' room and it freaked him out," Joe said. "He thought he was one of Jürgen's men and slipped and fell on his broken hand trying to get away from him."

"You knew the rules," Callen said sharply as he got in the guard's face. "You're relieved. Send someone to replace you and make sure your squad doesn't let this happen again."

The man wiped the blood from his lip and quickly left without a word.

"Is Deeks okay?" Sam asked quietly.

"He was scared out of his mind," Joe said. "I don't know if he hurt his hand or not, but his ribs have to be screaming."

The three agents stood without speaking as they tried to calm their anger, but turned as the door to Deeks' room opened. He was sitting in his wheelchair and he motioned for his nurse to push him out. He made his way toward them, occasionally grimacing, but with a determined look on his face. When he reached them, he took a small, measured breath and forced out a smile.

"Did I miss the fight?" he asked. "Joe said he was gonna kick some ass."

"I was pretty damn impressive," Joe said. "Knocked him down with one punch."

"Really?" Deeks said, looking from Sam to Callen, his eyebrows raised. "The truth guys."

"Not all that great," Callen said with a smirk.

"FBI guys hit like girls," Sam said with a warm grin.

"So you didn't hurt him, Joe?" Deeks asked solemnly. "Because it wasn't his fault. I panicked."

"I might have loosened a couple of teeth, but he's okay," Joe answered.

Deeks let out a shaky sigh and shook his head.

"Guess I need another session with Nate," Deeks said, unable to look at them. "Maybe he can give me some career advice, like what to do with the rest of my life."

The three men looked at each other, shocked at the implication.

"Don't you think it's a little soon to be thinking about work, Deeks?" Callen asked softly. "Besides, you're tough. You'll get through this."

"You really think I'm fit to be a Federal agent after this?" Deeks asked roughly. "I'm no good to anybody after what Jürgen did to me. I'm scared of my own damn shadow, Callen, so spare me the pep talk, okay?"

With that, he asked the nurse to take him back to his room, leaving the three men standing stock still in stunned silence. It was Sam who finally spoke.

"We have to find Jürgen," Sam said. "It's the only way Deeks is gonna get past this."

"Don't forget Granger," Callen said, his voice tight with anger. "This was his plan. He's the reason Jürgen even knew Deeks existed."

"What if that doesn't help him?" Joe asked sadly. "What if he's never the same after this?"

"It hasn't been that long, Joe," Sam said. "He just needs time to heal."

"I hope you're right Sam," Joe said as he walked slowly back toward Deeks' room. "God, I hope you're right."

...

He spent almost an hour with Joe, reminiscing about the ranch and getting an update on all the dogs and horses, especially Boo and Sheila. Joe Littleshield and Elan Hand were staying in the house, making sure things were taken care of and exercising the horses and Deeks felt a wave of nostalgia for his time there. It seemed almost like a foreign experience to him now, the beauty and peace of the place just a distant memory and his mood darkened at how much had changed. He asked Joe if he could be alone for a while, knowing that one of them would be coming in to sit with him as soon as Joe left. He knew they had worked out a schedule so he would never be alone, but he was growing irritated by the constant company and wanted some time to himself so he could process what had happened to him. Joe had reluctantly agreed, but he could tell he wasn't happy about it.

He wasn't supposed to put any weight on his ankle, so he eased himself into the wheelchair and managed to get himself into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He'd been planning this since he'd discovered there was a full-length mirror in there. Now he wheeled the chair around to face it and slowly struggled to take off the blue scrubs he was wearing until he sat completely naked before the mirror. He stared solemnly at his own reflection, starting with the peach fuzz on his head; he surveyed the damage to his body. He didn't recognize the man staring back at him and he began to shiver slightly. His face and head were still covered in multicolored bruises and the series of stitched up cuts around his eyes reminded him of Frankenstein, making him wonder why no one had commented on it. He guessed they probably thought the comparison might upset him and it made him realize how gently they were all treating him and that made him mad for some reason. His lips were split in various places and he remembered the way they stung when he'd kissed Kensi, but not bad enough for him to stop. He could still make out the marks Jürgen's hands had left on his throat and he closed his eyes as the whispering memories left him dizzy. He swallowed hard as he pushed them down and quickly opened his eyes again, continuing his visual exploration of his body.

The crisscrossed marks the ropes had made were still evident on his chest and arms, but faded in the places where the skin hadn't been broken or rubbed raw. He traced one with his finger and the sudden chill it brought shook him and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He fought against the terror as it built within him and he gripped the arm of the wheelchair as hard as he could, panting at the remembered feeling of being unable to move, almost unable to breathe and unable to fight back. He could feel his heart beating wildly as he continued to look at his reflection, wondering just who he was now, wondering who Jürgen had turned him into.

"You won, you sick, fuckin' bastard."

His cracked and broken ribs throbbed in pain and he began to take shallow breaths as he stared at the fading purple bruises the bastard's thumbs had left on his skin, marking him as his own. Sweat broke out on his body as his mind flashed with unwanted memories of the touch of the degenerate's hands as they moved so possessively over every part of his body and he felt his tears spill over. The nights had brought their own special horrors and he tried to force his mind away from those memories of hearing himself screaming in rage at the soft laughter and seductive voice of his unrelenting tormentor. Those unrevealed, haunting memories ran deep and he wasn't even sure if the ocean with all of its power could ever wash them away.

As he continued to stare at himself in the mirror he saw a man he did not know, a man he didn't want to know and he felt lost; lost to himself and lost to everyone he loved. He had tried so hard to resist, but now he knew he had failed. His fear of Jürgen dominated every waking minute of his life and he didn't know if he would ever find a way to overcome it and that was no way to live. It would have been better if Jürgen had killed him, because what he was left with was not a life.

"You okay in there, son?"

George's voice cut through his thoughts and he almost cried out. He didn't want George to see him like this, weak and vulnerable, a shell of a man unable to keep his body from trembling in fear. He fumbled with his clothes, trying, but unable to dress himself as the anguish he was feeling took whatever strength he had.

"Go away, George," he finally choked out.

George opened the door and Deeks covered himself in embarrassment and then buried his face in his scrubs. He heard the door close again, feeling the loss of respect from the one man he cherished above all others. He felt hollow and his heart raced as that realization hit him, but knew he shouldn't have been surprised as Jürgen's words that there can be no love between a father and a son reverberated through his mind.

He heard the door opened again and George was suddenly beside him, wrapping him in a warm blanket and pulling him into a hug and holding him tightly in powerful arms, letting him cry out his pain.

"You don't have to face this alone, Marty," George said soothingly. "I'm not going anywhere. We're family. Remember that. I love you son, and I intend to fight hard to bring you back from where that bastard dragged you down to. Don't give up on yourself, Marty, because I need you and so does Joe and so does Kensi. You aren't just fighting for yourself, you're fighting for all of us. Your team isn't the same without you. You're a part of them. You're family to them too, so as hard as it is, you need to fight for them. Don't let that bastard beat you, son. Don't let him win. You're stronger than that sonofabitch or you wouldn't be here."

Deeks clung to George, feeding on his strength and desperately needing the love he offered so unconditionally. Maybe this was what family meant; a source of deep, unfailing love that enabled you to fight for each other in the face of overwhelming odds. The kind of love that was new to him, but was a gift from the man who knelt beside him; a man he couldn't bear to see hurt. He wouldn't tell Jürgen his name for fear he would hurt him and now he had to fight to regain his sanity because this man needed him to do that.

"I'm scared, George," he said.

"I am too, son," George said as he gripped his shoulders. "But I'll be strong for you, if you'll be strong for me. Together we'll be pretty damn tough to beat."

"You sure?" Deeks asked as he stared at himself in the mirror. "Look at me George. I look like shit."

"Those scars will heal, Marty," George said as he stood and walked behind him, placing his hands firmly on his shoulders. "I'm fighting for the man you are inside; the good man who's still there in spite of what was done to you and I intend to be damn stubborn about it."

"I'm not sure I'm worth the effort, George," Deeks said softly, dropping his head to his chest and sinking back into his wheelchair, his energy depleted.

"That's what Josie used to call horse pucky, son," George said with a ghost of a smile. "Now, lift up your head and look at me."

Deeks did as he was told, his eyes locking on the reflection of the man who stood behind him. He saw steel in those eyes and a depth of commitment that touched a cord deep within him.

"I thought I lost you once son and now that I've got you back I don't intend to lose you again," George said.

...


	28. Chapter 28

**Vengeance: Chapter 28**

...

He stood on the large stone patio overlooking the vineyard as the light faded into the cool blue of dusk, his hands opening and closing into fists by his side, grinding his teeth in frustration. He turned back to the table where the photographs lay scattered, their edges fluttering softly in the dying breeze and he reached for the one that had always held his interest, the one that had convinced him to take this job. The blond man had turned to speak to someone when the photo had been taken, his eyes a brilliant blue, mirroring the ocean behind him. His hair was wind blown and tumbled around his forehead as a smile lit his face. He was bare chested, standing sensuously in the sand, a surf board under one arm, his other hand resting on his hip. Jürgen reached out and touched the photograph, closing his eyes briefly as he remembered the feel of his skin beneath his fingers and against the palm of his hand. He pulled his hand back as his frustration grew and he searched the vineyard once again for any sign of Granger.

He needed to find the blond man again. He needed to touch him, to have him under his power so he could continue what he had started and to finish it, as he had desired to do from the beginning. Granger had promised him that. He felt a sense of desperation in his need and that made him flush with annoyance, becoming incensed once again at the loss of his captive. He needed to experience the culmination of his desire, the all consuming need to hear him beg for mercy as he slowly choked the life out of him, not quickly, but over an entire night, supping on the terror he would ignite in those blue eyes as he reveled in the feel of his body struggling against him in the dark and the ropes that would tie him to the ground. This time the blond man would be able to move under his hands, but be unable to stop what was happening and that exciting him and he licked his lips and smiled with anticipation. This time he would bring the same knife he used to kill his father and he would make the blond man curse his newfound father and beg him to end his life. His body began to respond to the images in his head and he searched the darkening vineyard for the man who had made him promises that he had better keep.

He saw Granger walking toward him finally, his white shirt almost glowing in the ever-dulling light. Jürgen had no idea why the man had become so fascinated with the making of wine. It seemed trivial to him, a rich man's conceit and a sign that the man had lost focus and he would not let that happen.

"Still looking at his picture I see," Granger taunted, as he sat down at the table. The patio lights had come on and the table was bathed in a warm glow that didn't suit Jurgen's mood at all. He watched his employer pour a glass of Pinot Noir, offering it to him with a tight smile, but he sullenly refused, insulted by his pompous attitude.

"You seem unable to find him as you promised," Jürgen said roughly, unwilling to keep the contempt from his voice. "I thought you had your hand on things in that agency, but apparently you aren't as competent as you profess to be."

"And you just seem desperate to have your hands on him again. You're really rather pathetic, Wilhelm, but don't worry, he won't live much longer." Granger growled. "They never took him back to Los Angeles, at least not that my mole in NCIS and Faolan Boyle can discover. I think it was a trick to lure me back to the states. They think I'm obsessed with him, but that would be you, wouldn't it?"

"You are the one who fell for their trick," Jürgen said haughtily. "I told you I sensed he was still here."

"You psychic now, Jürgen?" Granger laughed as he swirled the blood red wine in his glass.

"I felt his presence," Jürgen said tightly as his anger deepened. "That boy by the jet was a liar and if I ever see him again I will make him sorry he ever tried to fool me."

"Faolan tracked that plane." Granger let the little tidbit drop and when he saw Jürgen's eyes widen, he smiled.

"They took him to Germany," Granger added as he held up the glass of wine, letting the patio lights shine through. "Ironic, don't you think?"

"I still have contacts there," Jürgen said, his heart suddenly racing at the prospect of recapturing his prize.

"I thought you might," Granger said. "I want him dead, Jürgen. However you make that happen doesn't matter to me anymore. I have a new life now and he is just a bitter reminder of the old one. I want it over sooner than later, done quickly, not some drawn out dramatic affair where you get to have your jollies just fooling with him. If you can't do that then I'll find someone who can. I know of an excellent sniper for hire in Germany and once he's dead that part of my life will be over and I can concentrate on building on my new identity."

"You made a promise to me," Jürgen's strangled voice was nearly raw with suppressed rage.

"I let you have him for eight days," Ganger said. "You almost destroyed him, mentally and physically. What more do you want with him?"

"That is none of your concern," Jürgen hissed.

"You work for me, Wilhelm, remember?" Granger said darkly. "You had your sick fun and then you let him get away. Now I'm telling you to end it."

Jürgen was trembling now, his fists clutched rigidly by his side, his face stark with anger. He fought for control, turning away and reaching for the photograph, seeking to calm himself by running his hands over the image barely visible in the dim light.

"Where is he?" he finally managed to ask.

"I'm fairly certain he's in Landstuhl Medical Center," Granger grunted. "I should have known. It's closer, and you know what bad shape he was in when they found him."

"It will be hard to gain access to him there," Jürgen's mind was methodically sifting through ideas as he fingered the photograph he now held in his hands.

"I'd say it will be impossible," Granger said, standing and walking to stand beneath the pergola at the edge of the patio.

"Do not underestimate me, Granger," Jurgen's voice was strident and the photo trembled as he clutched it to his chest, the other hand sliding constantly across the image.

"The sniper is a better idea," Granger reasoned. "They'll have to fly him home sometime, and if we can scare them into doing it sooner, then it should be easy to take him out as they exit the hospital or in route to Ramstein or wherever the plane is standing by."

"He's mine. You promised him to me," Jürgen said slowly. "If you no longer have an interest in him, why do you care what I do with him and how long it takes for me to do it?"

"Because I want NCIS to start to forget about me." Granger turned to look back at him. "The sooner he is dead, the sooner they will begin to move on. Don't forget, I'm the important one here, not you and certainly not Deeks."

"They wouldn't have found him at all if you hadn't hired that photographer to take pictures at his memorial service," he accused.

"And how do you know that?" Granger asked.

"Faolan figured it out," Jürgen said. "He thinks you're getting sloppy, too."

"Sounds like you two have become good buddies," Granger said nastily.

"I have no friends," he answered, taking a menacing step forward. "I only want what you promised me, Granger."

"Deeks has really gotten to you, hasn't he," Granger laughed. "I always knew what a sick bastard you were, Jürgen. It's why I hired you."

Granger walked slowly toward him, an obnoxious smile on his face as he taunted him.

"I remember what you did to our young agent in Berlin," Granger said softly. "He was blond too, and you made him suffer for a long time before you killed him. You didn't even care about the intel he was giving you, did you?"

"Shut up," Jürgen whispered. "You don't understand a man like me and you certainly don't understand the captive."

"Deeks? You don't think I understand that little shit?" Granger laughed dryly. "What's there to understand? He's a wannabe agent with little or no skills. He wasn't a worthy opponent then and he certainly isn't now, especially after what you did to him. He's nothing anymore and I want him dead. Do you understand? Now do it my way or get out."

"Be careful. You forget who you are talking to," Jürgen's voice was flat, almost without emotion now as he stared at the man who had hired him.

"Are you threatening me?" Granger smirked.

"The captive has more depth and strength than you will ever possess, but you can't possibly understand that because you underestimate him." Jürgen said, ignoring the question. "I understand him. We carry the same rage inside. Do you realize how long he held out against me? How long he resisted? I don't like to be resisted. He needs to be taught that lesson, to ask my forgiveness and only then will I kill him. But, I will kill him my way, not yours."

"You admire him." Granger said with surprise. "That is pathetic. Get out, Jürgen. Deeks is no longer your concern. I'll deal with him. You're fired."

Jürgen stood sullenly under the black sky, the photograph crushed in his fist, his gray eyes unblinking.

"But I'm not finished with him," his voice just a whisper.

Granger just dismissed him with a wave of his hand, not bothering to reply as he poured himself another glass of Pinot. Jürgen stared at him for a few minutes, then let the photograph fall to the ground before turning and walking back to his room in the small annex next to the empty winery. Granger looked up as he walked away and then he stood and wandered back to the edge of the patio to look out over the grape vines, ghostly in the thin light of the rising moon. He slowly swirled the wine in his glass, dropping his nose inside the rim, inhaling its fruit before filling his mouth, letting it saturate his senses, savoring the wine and his future here.

He barely felt the hint of movement in the silence behind him, but an irritating whiff of tobacco made him halt as he lifted his glass to take a second mouthful. His eye caught the soft flash of the knife blade as it slashed down, cutting through the tendon in the crook of his arm and he screamed as his blood mixed with the red wine that splattered across the stone of the patio, the glass shards sparkling in the soft light. His arm hung uselessly as he fumbled to staunch the blood flow, turning to see Jürgen's face contorted in rage as he slammed his hand into his throat and held him in his grip, the knife slicing down his chest to his abdomen, causing him to scream once again as he fell to his knees. He looked up into the eyes of a madman as his lifeblood saturated his white shirt and linen pants and he labored to breathe in the last seconds of his life, listening to the whispering rage in the voice of his killer.

"You promised you would let me kill him," Jürgen snarled. "You broke that promise and then you forgot who I was."

Jürgen knelt down in front of him, watching curiously as Granger's eyes began to dull before driving the knife deep into his groin, again and again and again until he felt satisfied. He pushed the bloody body away from him, his heart racing with the thrill of his kill.

"You never understood," he said, spitting contemptuously on the dead body as he stood up.

He picked up the crushed photograph and placed it on the table, smoothing it out gently, leaving a smear of blood across the surface. He poured himself a glass of the Pinot Noir, drinking deeply of the red wine as his eyes remained focused on the man in the photograph, his hand moving restlessly over the image.

...

...

"Lange."

"Foster here." he said. "I have news."

"Good or bad?"

"Unconfirmed," he replied.

"Is this back channel, Mr. Foster?"

"For now," he answered. "My operative is looking into a report about a murder at a recently purchased winery in the Tulbagh Valley above Cape Town. We have reason to believe the victim might be Owen Granger."

Hetty sat unmoving in her chair, gripping the phone as she tried to digest the stunning information. She felt a sudden void and she steadied herself before continuing the conversation.

"You've been busy, Mr. Foster."

"He sold a few too many secrets for Langley to ignore," he replied. "I thought you'd want to know."

"I appreciate the consideration," Hetty said with a solemn smile.

"Did you find him?" Foster asked, his voice softening.

"Yes, and I will be forever grateful for your help," Hetty said.

"Was he alive?"

"Barely," she answered. "I believe you have some understanding of what he went through."

"That's very personal," he replied.

"Of course," she said, knowing that was all she would get.

"I'll call with confirmation when I have it."

The line went dead and she looked at the phone as she contemplated the repercussions this information might generate. She had known Owen Granger a long time and the world without him would take some getting used to. Not that she would mourn his passing, but she knew it was a game changer if it turned out to be true. She quickly called Nell to begin a search of her own, even though Foster hadn't given her any details. She didn't want to wait for the CIA to confirm, she needed intel now.

"Hetty?" Nell called in a little under an hour. "You need to see this."

When Hetty made it up to Ops, photographs of the body of Owen Granger were displayed across the big screen. The two techs had managed to secure crime scene photos from the local police somehow, confirming instantly that the man she had worked with closely for years was now dead, killed in a very gruesome way that left no doubt in her mind who the murderer was.

"I assume Jürgen's in the wind," she said. "Any ideas on how to find him?"

"Our only other connection is through Faolan Boyle," Eric said. "And he is never easy to track."

"Do your best, Mr. Beale," Hetty said, as she quickly scanned the added information and news clippings that Nell had discovered before she called Callen.

"Mr. Callen, can you talk?" she asked.

"I'm having a late dinner with Sam," he said, curiosity apparent in his voice.

"Owen Granger is dead," she said bluntly. "His body was found two days ago on a winery estate he'd recently purchased under the name, Johann Otto. He was brutally stabbed and his body wasn't found until the next day by a caretaker. I'm convinced he was killed by Wilhelm Jürgen. It has his signature written all over it."

She heard him share the news with Sam before returning to their conversation.

"Sounds like a falling out to me," Callen said. "Any news on Jürgen's whereabouts?"

"No, but be careful Mr. Callen," Hetty cautioned. "Photographs of Mr. Deeks were found at the crime scene."

"We need to move him, Hetty," Callen said. "Deeks keeps telling us he'll come for him and now that he's killed Granger, I think that's exactly what he's going to do."

"Let me do some research, then we'll talk," Hetty said. "Meanwhile, watch each other's backs, Mr. Callen. Jürgen has no one holding the reins now, if he ever did."

"We'll be ready to move as soon as you let us know where we're going," Callen said hurriedly before ending the call.

...

...

Mack had begged off on the dinner invitation from Sam and Callen, too interested in spending as much time as possible with the pretty dark haired nurse who worked the night shift. It had taken him a couple of days to get up the nerve to talk to her, but now they chatted easily most nights until he lost his battle with the need for sleep. Not much happened at nights on the trauma ward, just a few nurses talking softly and an occasional visit by the janitorial staff going room to room cleaning out the dirty laundry and tall plastic garbage containers that had slowly filled with rubber gloves and discarded bandages during the day. The guard by Deeks' room seemed to be engrossed in the audio book he was listening to through ear buds, which made Mack nervous. He had only been with the team a short time, but he knew Sam and Callen would probably eat this guy for dinner if they saw he really wasn't paying attention. Mack didn't feel confident enough to say anything to the guard, having no authority, beside the fact that the guard was rather intimidating and not exactly friendly. Joe had left a half hour ago and Kensi had spoken to him briefly before going into Deeks' room. He liked her and still got a smile out of her whenever he brought her candy bars. He realized he had one in his pocket now, and decided she could probably use a pick-me-up, so he headed for the room.

"Hey Kensi," he whispered as he poked his head in and held out the candy bar.

"You know how to sweet talk a girl, Mack," Kensi smiled, motioning him inside.

"She's easy, Mack," Deeks said softly with a smile. "How's it going with Gina?"

"I think she likes me," Mack said, blushing brightly. "Thanks for the tips."

"You're giving him tips on how to pick up nurses?" Kensi laughed.

"Well, I used to be pretty good at it," Deeks said with a cocky grin.

"Did you spend a lot of time in hospitals?" Mack asked.

"You have no idea," Kensi said, standing up and going to the side of the bed. "Mack, would you mind sitting with Deeks for a couple of minutes while I run down to the cafeteria to grab a coffee?"

"Of course," Mack nodded.

"She's bored with me, Mack," Deeks said. "She needs to be constantly entertained."

"Don't believe everything he says, Mack," Kensi laughed. "He lies a lot."

Mack wasn't sure what to say so he remained silent, smiling shyly as Kensi waved a goodbye and was gone. The two men sat quietly talking, Deeks telling him more stories about nurses and Mack drinking it in until Deeks began nodding off. Mack sat by his side, taking in the fading bruises on his face and wondering how such a funny and seemingly gentle guy had survived such brutality.

The door opened slowly and he could hear one of the janitors explaining to the guard that he needed to collect the garbage. The man's voice caught Mack's attention, but he didn't know why, until the man entered the room and closed the door. Then he felt a deep icy chill, the hair on the back of his neck and arms standing on end as the man turned toward the bed, his eyes hungrily roaming over Deeks' sleeping form and then flicking suddenly up to stare into Mack's instantly terrified eyes. Mack stood up quickly, shocked into silence, knocking the chair aside as he tried to back away from the intruder. The man was on him quickly, his hands clawing into his throat, closing down his breathing until his eyes began to glaze over.

"You lied to me," Jürgen said venomously. "I don't like to be lied to."

"Leave him alone," Deeks said from the bed as he tried to get up, fumbling for the call button.

Jürgen's hands instantly tightened around Mack's throat and he slid down the wall, ending up in a heap on the floor as he passed out. Forgetting the young man, Jürgen moved swiftly to Deeks, his hand slamming down over his mouth, forcing him back down on the bed as he ripped his hand away from the call button.

"I'm not finished with you, my friend," Jürgen whispered, his face inches from his former captive. He could see the terror in his eyes and it made him smile as he felt the man go rigid under his hand. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling himself relax as his hand slid down to his arm and began to stroke it, up and down, quietly moaning at the feel of his skin.

"I will make you pay for leaving," Jürgen whispered, pressing his body down on his chest. "If you yell out, I will kill the boy."

Deeks began shivering as Jürgen's hand slid away from his mouth and closed around his throat, slowly choking him.

"Do you know how angry you have made me?" he said, his mouth pressed close to Deeks' ear.

"Not as angry as you've made me," Deeks managed to say, before bringing the cast on his right hand down hard on the side of Jürgen's head, stunning himself in the process.

Jürgen recovered quickly, striking Deeks viciously across the face before he could yell for help. Blood seeped from his nose and mouth as he struggled to push Jürgen off of him, his broken cast useless as Jürgen slammed it against the side of the bed, causing Deeks to scream in pain. Suddenly the guard was there, pulling Jürgen away and shoving him into the wall, holding him firmly as he looked over to see if Deeks was okay. The momentary glance cost him his life, as Jürgen rammed his knife up into the man's abdomen. The guard's face filled with brief surprise as he slipped to the floor and Jürgen stumbled away from him as a couple of nurses pushed open the door, only to be shoved roughly aside as Jürgen rushed out of the room, the guard's blood soaking into his pants as he ran.

...


	29. Chapter 29

**Vengeance: Chapter 29**

...

The elevator doors opened to the sounds of nurses shouting for help and a crash cart, sending Kensi charging out into the hallway with fear rising in her throat. The entrance to Deeks' room was crowded with nurses and interns, scaring Kensi even more as she charged through them, shoving them out of her way to get inside. Her eyes went instantly to the bed, where Deeks cradled his broken hand, his face bloody and his eyes tightly shut with pain. She slipped slightly and looked down at her feet to see the guard lying in a pool of blood, his eyes staring blankly up at her, making her stomach lurch in shock. A low moan from across the room drew her attention to where two nurses were hovering over Mack lying crumpled against the far wall and she took a deep breath as she pulled her phone and sent a quick text to Callen and Joe.

"Marty?" She said his name breathlessly, her hand trembling as she reached for him. His eyes flew open when she touched him and she could see the fear flashing behind them as he jerked away instantly. When he saw it was her, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes again.

"He was here, Kens," he whispered shakily. "Check on Mack for me. Jürgen had him by the throat."

Her heart raced as she turned quickly toward the far corner, where Mack began coughing as he came to. The two nurses had moved aside so an intern could examine him, but he was pushing all of them away as he struggled to stand.

"Stay down, Mack," Sam said loudly, his commanding voice cutting through the chaos and Kensi felt relief just hearing it. She had a feeling the staff felt the same way.

Callen was checking the guard when their eyes met briefly before he shook his head and stood up, moving quickly toward Deeks as Gina, his night nurse, began cleaning the blood from his face and checking his injuries.

"Jürgen?" Callen asked.

Deeks nodded and Callen reached out and gripped his shoulder, his face tense, but his eyes full of concern.

"I'm good, Callen. I hit the bastard in the head with my cast." Deeks said, his troubled eyes telling how badly he was shaken. "Is Mack okay?"

"He's alive, but Jürgen killed the guard," Callen told him.

"Sonofabitch," Deeks said, his face suddenly fierce with anger. "I panicked. I should have hit the call button sooner."

"It's probably good you didn't or he might have killed one of the nurses," Kensi said as she joined them.

"Don't make excuses for me Kens," he snapped angrily. "He could have killed Mack and I didn't do anything except get a bloody nose."

"Don't forget the split lip and the re-injured hand," Callen said, trying to get him to go easier on himself.

Deeks shot him a dark look at the comment and Kensi felt her own anger rising.

"Deeks, you can barely walk, your punctured lung isn't healed, let alone your fractured ribs," she chided him strongly. "If you had been able to get to him, he would have killed you."

"No, he wouldn't," Deeks said softly. "He didn't come here to kill me. He came here to let me know he's not done with me. He wants me back so he can take his time killing me."

The room, which was now an active crime scene, suddenly became even more crowded with the arrival of the military police. Doctor Standish, Deeks' physician, pushed his way in and began giving orders for him to be taken to an exam room so he could check his hand and his bed was quickly rolled out of the room. Kensi insisted on going along, the doctor's protest silenced by the determined look on her face and the quick check she made of her gun. Mack was inconsolable over the death of the guard, blaming himself for not shouting out a warning and Sam walked him out into the hall so he could reason with him. Callen had followed and that's where Joe and George found them.

"What the hell happened?" Joe asked.

"Jürgen got into Deeks' room," Callen told him.

"What the fuck?" Joe was furious until his father's worried voice shut him up.

"Is he all right?" George asked quietly, looking stunned and Joe reached out to take his arm.

"He's fine. The doctor is checking him over now," Callen said.

"How did Jürgen get past the damn guard?" Joe demanded, looking around for the man.

"He was dressed like a janitor," Mack answered as he leaned dejectedly against the wall.

"No excuse," Joe said. "They all have pictures of the guy. Did he explain how he let the one guy we were on the look out for, get to the man he was supposed to protect?"

"He did try to protect him, Joe," Callen said. "Jürgen killed him."

"Shit!" Joe said.

"That's not all," Callen continued. "Jürgen murdered Granger three days ago at a winery in South Africa."

"Granger's dead?" Joe was shocked.

"The real question is how did Jürgen know Deeks was here?" Sam asked.

"They must have tracked the plane," Callen reasoned. "And Granger knew this was the logical place for us to bring him, if we didn't show up in LA."

"We've got to move him, Callen," Joe said.

"But how and where?" Callen questioned. "If they're tracking the plane, then Jürgen will follow us to wherever we take him."

"Let's go back to the hotel and work up a plan, G," Sam said.

"I'm staying here with Marty," George said as they all turned to leave. "He shouldn't be left alone right now."

"Kensi's with him," Sam said. "She'll protect him."

"The tactical squad is sending two new guards to stay with him," Callen told him, seeing the doubt on his face.

"The military police have this place on lockdown, George," Sam said softly. "He won't get to him again."

"You boys ever consider the possibility that he might not have left?" George asked. "He got to Marty once and he seems pretty damn determined to take him again, so pardon me if I don't believe he's safe. You all made promises that he wouldn't be left alone, hell, I made the same promise, but we failed him. We didn't protect him at all, we let him down and we let that bastard get to him and hurt him again."

George's voice had risen in volume as he chastised them. By the end of his tirade, he was rigid with anger and the look in the team's eyes showed that they couldn't disagree.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Atwood," Mack said quietly.

"I know you are, boy," George said. "But you aren't a special agent like the rest of 'em here. It wasn't your job to keep him safe, it was theirs."

With that, he turned and went in search of his son, leaving the other one in turmoil, unsure whether to follow him or go with Sam and Callen.

"Joe, go with him," Callen told him, settling his dilemma. "Let him know we already had men check the security footage. Jürgen was seen going into a supply closet and leaving the building in street clothes. I hope it'll make your dad feel a little better."

"Why didn't you tell him?" Joe asked.

"Because he was right," Callen said. "We didn't do our jobs and Deeks and that guard paid the price."

Callen sounded tired as he spoke, and Sam eyed him sharply as he pushed past to head back toward the elevators. He followed his partner closely behind, putting his hand on the back of Mack's neck and guiding him along in front of him.

...

...

The doctor removed the broken cast and Deeks stared down at his exposed right hand, unable to look away even though he desperately wanted to. He took in the ugly stitches and swallowed hard, recalling the warmth of his own blood after Jürgen had smashed his hand. Then his mind began to close down as his brutal night battle with Jürgen in the prison courtyard replayed over and over and his hand began to throb. Jürgen's voice filled his head and the remembered pain of his broken fingers being crushed in his fist sent shivers throughout his body and he began to hyperventilate. He didn't acknowledge the doctor or the nurses who tried to calm him, he saw only into the past and the terror that reached out of its insidious shadows. The well lit room he was being treated in disappeared in his mind, replaced by unrelenting darkness and the rancid smell of Jurgen's mouth moving against his cheek as he described what he would do to him. He knew now he would never escape, Jürgen would always find him and their brutal dance would continue until Jürgen decided to end it. He slowly began to accept that he would always be a prisoner, never free of fear, never free of the man who had marked him forever as his own.

"Mr. Deeks," the doctor said, noticing the vacant stare of his patient as his shivering suddenly stopped. He did not respond in any way, his hand and body suddenly completely still and unresponsive as if sleeping with his eyes open.

"Damn!" Dr. Standish said.

"What's happening?" Kensi asked as she pushed between the nurses to get a look at Deeks.

"He's shut down," the doctor said softly. "I'd say that whatever just happened triggered a flashback and he's probably suffering an acute stress reaction."

"Like PTSD?" Kensi asked.

"No, nothing that severe," Dr. Standish answered. "Yet."

Kensi gripped the railing of the bed as her eyes shone with tears.

"I shouldn't have left him alone," she said softly as she laid her hand on his chest, noticing that he didn't react at all.

"You should call Dr. Getz," Standish said kindly. "I've already called his orthopedic surgeon. He'll be in to stabilize his hand and recast it, but this new development is something Dr. Getz will know how to handle. I'm surprised he hasn't experienced it before now, considering what he went through."

"The man who held him prisoner got into his room tonight," Kensi said. "And if I had been there, he wouldn't be going through this now."

"You expect a lot of yourself, Miss Blye," the doctor said, patting her on the shoulder.

Kensi turned away from him and pulled her phone, calling Nate, but afraid to tell the others what had happened, especially George.

"Kensi? What's wrong?" She looked up to see him standing in the doorway and the anger on his face shook her.

George didn't wait for an answer; he brushed by her and went to Deeks' bedside, taking in the blank look on his face and the stillness of his body.

"Why did you let this happen?" His voice was harsh and it surprised her.

"I went to get coffee," she said feebly. "Oh God, George, I'm so sorry. I should never have left him."

She leaned back heavily against the wall, her shoulders shaking as she let her emotions go and George turned toward her, his face softening with understanding. He went to her and pulled her to his chest, gently patting her back as she vented her pain.

"I shouldn't have said that, Kensi," George said. He stood back and took her head in his rough hands and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. You didn't do this, that bastard Jürgen did."

A soft knock on the door distracted them, but Kensi turned away as Joe slipped into the room, his eyes questioning as he sensed the tension in the air. He looked quickly over at Deeks still form and his brow creased with concern.

"What happened?" Joe asked, his voice choking on the words. "Is he okay? Did that bastard hurt him?"

When the doctor explained, he became incensed.

"What the hell is that?" Joe demanded.

"What does it sound like, Joe?" Kensi said angrily. "Jürgen terrorized him tonight and I wasn't there to stop him and now he's in shock."

"You both need to quiet down," George said firmly, before turning to the doctor. "We need to take him home. He needs to be in a peaceful place where he can catch his breath and heal."

"Where's home," Dr. Standish asked.

"A ranch in Wyoming," George said as he took Marty's good hand, holding it tightly in both of his. Deeks reacted, taking in a deep breath before closing his eyes and becoming still again.

"Well, something just got through to him," the doctor said. "It might be just what he needs."

They stayed with him, watching as the orthopedic surgeon examined his hand and then recast it. Nate arrived during that time, deep concern etched into his good natured face as he listened to Kensi tell about the night's terrifying events. He waited until the doctors were finished before sitting down next to Deeks to observe him and his reactions to outside stimuli, quickly noting that although he was lying completely still, his body was slick with sweat. He asked Dr. Standish a few questions before turning to explain what was happening.

"Seeing Jürgen again caused an acute stress reaction," Nate said softly. "It shouldn't last more than a couple of days, but during that time he might not respond to any of you as he normally would. He might get agitated and become irritable and restless, or he may not react to you at all."

"Is there anything you can do to help him?" George asked, his eyes never leaving Deeks' face.

"I'm going to put him on some anti-depressants," Nate said kindly. "But, he should gradually return to normal and he may not even remember that this happened. Tonight was traumatic and his mind couldn't cope with it."

"What's normal for him now?" Joe asked, shaking his head.

"I want to take him home," George said firmly. "He needs to get out of this place."

"I agree, George," Nate said. "But, he'll need good follow up care."

"Can you come to Wyoming, Doc?" George asked, looking sharply at Nate. "There's a good hospital in Laramie, but he likes you, Doc, and I think he needs you."

"Hetty gave me as much time as I needed to help the team," Nate said. "But, I'll have to run this by her."

"You do that, Doc," George said. "But, I'm taking him home no matter what she says."

...

...

"Hetty?"

"Mr. Callen," she answered. "Is he still insisting?"

"Strongly," Callen replied. "We'll have one pissed off cowboy on our hands if we don't go along with him."

"This is your operation, Mr. Callen, not George Atwood's," Hetty said sharply.

"Do you trust me, Hetty?"

"Completely, Mr. Callen," she said and he finally heard a smile in her voice. "Not sure George does."

"My expense account might be a little bigger this month," he said with a smirk.

"And your paycheck may be a bit smaller," Hetty said. "Keep him safe this time, Mr. Callen, or I have no doubt I'll be hearing from George and it won't be pleasant."

"Keeping Deeks away from Jürgen is the only thing on my mind, Hetty."

"Keep me posted, Mr. Callen."

...

...

The tactical squad surrounded the gurney as it was rolled into the ambulance behind the hospital. Sam waited by the SUV with Callen, their guns held tightly by their sides, watching the surrounding buildings as Chavez entered the ambulance to accompany it to the jet. The move was accomplished quickly, the tactical squad jumping silently into the lead SUV as Callen and Sam followed with the others, covering the rear. No one spoke as they sped down dark, icy highways headed for Ramstein Air Base, where the pilots already had clearance to depart as soon as everyone was on board. A squad of military police from the base had been guarding the plane in an isolated hanger for most of the day and was on hand when the SUVs raced into the hanger, disgorging the tactical squad who immediately spread out to cover the entrance. Once the gurney was carried onto the jet, the rest of the team quickly made their way on board and the engines revved. The plane was quickly taxied into position and roared up into the freezing night sky. When they reached cruising altitude, Callen finally relaxed and made his way to the cockpit.

"Good to see you again, sir," the pilot said. "Where to?"

"Dulles," Callen answered.

"DC it is," the co-pilot said.

"Hope you don't get in too much trouble for filing a false flight plan." Callen said with a smirk.

"NCIS owes us if we do," he said, smiling back. "And you are on the hook for a very expensive meal."

"Anytime, gentlemen," Callen slapped his back and returned to the main cabin.

"Vance has a tactical squad waiting to escort us to Walter Reed Hospital," Sam reported.

"How's he doing?" Callen said, nodding toward the bedroom.

"Real quiet," Sam said.

The partners looked at each other without speaking, both hoping they had thrown Jürgen off Deeks' trail. If this plan worked, then the whole thing could be over in the next few days.

"You think he'll try again this soon?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not underestimate him again," Callen answered. "The bastard's smart and Eric thinks Faolan Boyle is helping him."

"Did you convince Joe?" Sam asked.

"He isn't too happy and neither is his father, but they finally agreed it was for the best," Callen sighed as he settled in for the night.

"The sooner we catch Jürgen, the better things will get for Deeks," Sam said softly.

"I hope so," Callen said. "Seeing him unresponsive like that is tough to take."

The held each other's gaze until Callen closed his eyes and drifted toward sleep. Sam kept going over the plan in his head, searching for holes and knowing there were plenty. Their two opponents were men who had no moral compass and enjoyed causing pain and suffering and disrupting lives. They had no qualms about what they were doing and no problem using whatever means necessary to accomplish what they wanted. They were both sociopaths in their own unique way and Granger had put them together. They were a dangerous combination of calculating brilliance and pathological obsession and trying to figure out what they were thinking or even how they thought was beyond him. Sam turned to look back at the closed door to the bedroom and shook his head as worry settled deep within him, pushing sleep away.

...

...

Faolan Boyle sat in the dark before several laptops, scanning the security systems he had just hacked. His eyes darted from one to the other, smiling occasionally as he watched the men trying to hide the target from the cameras as they loaded him into the ambulance. He followed them on traffic cams even though he already knew where they were going, having been monitoring the Gulfstream jet since it had arrived. He rather admired the precision of the team of men as they spread out in the hanger. He liked precision and he liked preparedness, but sniggered at their pathetic attempts to protect the man Jürgen was so desperate to capture. He glanced over at the third laptop, its screen filled with captured images of each member of the team and anyone else who had come in contact with them. He began to compare them with the men in the current feeds he was watching, ticking their names off in his head as his tongue flicked back and forth across his lips. When the plane took off, he picked up his phone and called Jürgen.

"On their way," he said. "Most of the same people are with him, but I didn't have a good view once they were inside the hanger."

"Did you get the flight plan?" Jürgen asked.

"Says Los Angeles," he replied.

"Granger's mole says Washington DC, Dulles," Jürgen said with a hollow laugh.

"Brilliant! Does he know he's communicating with you and not Granger?" Faolan Boyle asked.

"Guess word of his death hasn't gotten back to them yet," Jürgen replied.

"How many men are you taking with you?" Faolan asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"You just get me security feeds from Walter Reed Hospital," Jürgen's voice was suddenly menacing and Faolan Boyle swallowed his next question, remembering the brutal crime scene photos of Granger's bloody body.

Jürgen's voice disappeared, leaving Faolan chewing his lips in the reflected light of his laptops, his eyes blinking rapidly as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

"The bollocks," he whispered. "Best watch where you step with this one, Faolan lad."

...


	30. Chapter 30

**Vengeance: Chapter 30**

...

Sam knew Callen had slept badly on the flight over, so he wasn't surprised at his sullen silence or his snappish replies to any questions. The last meeting with George and Joe had gone poorly, the men, especially George having taken Callen to task about his plan and what it might mean for Deeks if things went wrong. Sam had been surprised at how the old rancher's comments had affected Callen, seeing the telltale signs of deep emotion that he usually kept locked down tight, especially during an operation. He recalled the look on Callen's face when George questioned him and saw how he subtly reacted whenever the man talked about Deeks like a son. There was a yearning there that was new and Sam suspected he was envious of the closeness the two had found.

Sam knew Callen carried guilt over what had happened in Landstuhl, and it was obvious that he didn't want to disappoint George a second time or cause Deeks anymore pain. Sam had tried to talk to him about it in the early hours of the morning before they landed, but he stubbornly resisted and Sam had let it go. His own worries about the operation still troubled him, so when they walked into the trauma ward of Walter Reed Hospital he was as pleased as Callen when Hetty was there waiting for them.

"How's he holding up?" Hetty asked quietly as the gurney was pushed into a private room.

"He's scared to death," Callen answered. "But, he was adamant about wanting to help."

"We'll protect him, Hetty," Sam said.

"I know you will, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said, leading them inside the doctors' lounge. "Now, gentlemen, let's get you into some scrubs. Mr. Hanna, you will be going undercover as an orderly and you Mr. Callen will be a badly injured veteran in the next room. Your face will be covered in bandages so your identity is protected and this iPad has a direct link to the surveillance cameras in and around Mack's room. We checked him in under Mr. Deeks' real name, so Jürgen won't have any trouble discovering where he is. Hopefully he'll chalk it up to our over confidence about being on home ground."

"How's Deeks doing, Hetty?" Callen asked, concern softening his tired features even further.

"Still no response to anyone or anything," she answered, patting his arm gently as she spoke. "They'll be landing shortly in Laramie."

"You talk to George yet?" he asked guardedly, causing Sam to watch him carefully.

"He's unhappy about you two not being there to protect Mr. Deeks," she said. "But, he says he understands why you split up the team. He thinks quite highly of you Mr. Callen and he knows you're just trying to throw Jurgen off the trail by making him believe Deeks is here in DC. He also wanted me to tell you that he thought he was a little hard on you in Germany and doesn't blame you for what happened."

"Now, if only G would believe that," Sam said, getting a dark look from Callen.

Hetty noticed a slight undercurrent of tension between the two partners as they were led into the locker room by a member of the security staff.

"Eric have any luck tracking down Faolan Boyle?" Callen asked as he slipped off his jeans, causing Hetty to stop and stare unabashed at his bare legs.

"I'd forgotten what nice looking legs you have, Mr. Callen," she said with a smile.

"Tell me you don't have a surveillance camera in the men's locker room in OSP," He replied as he colored slightly and rushed to pull on the blue scrubs.

"Of course not, Mr. Callen," she replied indignantly. "What are you waiting for, Sam? Get changed."

"You leave, I change," Sam said, trying to stare down the tiny woman.

"I had no idea you were both so shy," she said. "Get over yourselves, gentlemen. I've seen the best, including Warren Beatty's butt."

She waved and left the room, leaving the two men slightly embarrassed and the security guard trying very hard to keep from laughing out loud.

"Did she just insult us, G?" Sam asked.

"Not me," he replied with a grin. "She likes my legs."

Sam was happy to see his partner finally loosen up. The heaviness he had carried during the long flight was gone, replaced with a fresh energy that Hetty had rekindled in him. Now it was time to bait the trap for Jürgen and hopefully end this thing.

...

...

He had always been meticulous to a fault, it's what had sent him back to the bank of laptops to work into the early morning, going over and over the security feeds of the target transfer. Something was bothering him about it and he hated loose ends or unexplained occurrences, they made him restless and suspicious. So he prepared a second pot of tea and decided to go through everything again. Granger had appreciated his attention to detail, but Jürgen found his constant questions about everything irritating and had once shoved him against a wall in frustration during the early days of the operation in California. He had actually enjoyed that and had been pleased when he was asked to continue working with him after Granger's death, always needing to finish what he started and growing more and more enamored with the work and increasingly fascinated with Jürgen.

Faolan held no illusions about the man; he was definitely off, but he didn't question his intelligence, just his obsession with the blond haired man. He'd never met anyone quite like Jürgen, and he had grown up around some hard men in Derry. He was drawn to him and the raw power he exuded, enthralled with his dark mind and his persistent need to possess and dominate those around him. Faolan had no problem with that, welcoming the attention, having had so little of it in his life. He told himself he wasn't jealous of the target, but that would be lying. He was looking forward to the man's death though, knowing that Jürgen would tell him all of the details when it was over. He licked his lips compulsively as he recalled Jürgen's descriptions of what he had done to the man over the time he had held him. He knew he could never do those things to someone, but it excited him to hear Jürgen describe what it felt like as he softly stroked the back of his neck. It made him feel special and he craved that more than anything.

He shook himself free of the daydreams, pouring a little milk in his tea before carrying it back to his laptops. He had captured photos of everyone associated with the blond man and as he compared them with the security feeds once again he finally saw what had been bothering him. The woman wasn't in any of the surveillance footage. He smiled, knowing how angry Jürgen would be by the news that they had tried to fool him, and he didn't like to be made a fool of. Jürgen would be pleased with him and that was just what he wanted.

"They tricked you, Wilhelm," Faolan Boyle said softly into the phone and waited for the explosion of anger that always thrilled him. He knew he was playing with fire by taunting him, but that was all part of the fun.

"How?" Jurgen's voice was ominous and quiet.

"They want you to think the target is being flown to Washington," he said. 'But, the woman wasn't anywhere on the feeds, and she was always close by."

"What woman?" Jürgen asked.

"The one I saw in the hospital," Faolan sighed with annoyance. "The one from the team photos Granger gave us. She was always hanging around his room and from what my observer overheard, she's in love with him."

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line for long seconds and Faolan thought he might have lost the connection.

"Are you telling me he wasn't on that plane?" Jürgen voice was strident and tight and Faolan was disappointed.

"I don't think so," he answered.

"But you don't have solid proof?" Jürgen asked.

"No, but...," Faolan tried to explain, but Jürgen didn't let him finish.

"I'll find out for sure, now that I'm here in Washington," Jürgen said roughly. "You find out if there is any truth to what you believe. If there is, track him down to wherever they've taken him. Do you understand?"

Faolan could hear the mounting agitation as his voice grew louder. He knew he was desperate to find the man and it knotted his stomach with loathing for the blond agent. He would do everything he could to find him so that Jürgen could end this obsession and pay him the attention he deserved.

...

...

It was the snow falling outside the window that caught his attention. He remembered his daydream in the courtyard as he suffered under the punishing heat of the sun, a man and a horse walking through softly falling snow and he remembered laughing hysterically at the oddity of it. He was mesmerized by the snow, staring at it without moving, unsure if it was real or if he was still in the courtyard, tied excruciatingly tight to the hard post. He could hear the beating of his own heart pulsing in his ears and he couldn't seem to move, so maybe he was still there and he felt the panic start low in his abdomen and begin to infuse his body. He stared at the white snow, trying to find the reality of it, trying to find himself and still the rushing white noise in his head. He blinked slowly and then closed his eyes, but his mind was dark and cold and he didn't want to be there, didn't want to be alone with his searing memories, so he opened his eyes again and searched the falling snow for answers. Then he heard someone say his name and he turned his head to see who had spoken it.

"Hey, Marty," the woman said.

Her smile was beautiful and he remembered her from another one of his daydreams in the courtyard so he wasn't sure if she was real. He felt her hand take his and he wasn't afraid and that surprised him. Her slender fingers gently stoked the back of his hand and it felt good, it felt real and he looked up to see tears in her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because I'm happy," she replied.

"It's snowing," he said and turned back to look out the window.

"Yes it is," she said softly.

"Where are we?" he asked as he continued to stare at the falling snow.

"Wyoming."

His heart fluttered at the name and he felt warm tears gather in his eyes. A sense of peace flooded through his body and he gasped as the tears escaped and ran down his cheeks. The woman gently touched his face and wiped away a stray tear with her long fingers and he turned to look into her soft, deep brown eyes.

"Kensi?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm home."

"Yeah, you are."

She brought his hand to her lips and softly kissed his fingers and he smiled as his breath caught in his throat.

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days," she answered. "You're in the hospital in Laramie."

"Is George here?"

"He and Joe went to grab a bite to eat," she said, reaching up to caress his forehead with her fingers, lightly brushing through his fine golden hair that was gradually starting to grow out.

"Are they coming back?" Fear that they had abandoned him flashed through his mind and he clutched at Kensi's hand, fighting the panic that rose at the thought of being alone.

"Of course," she said. "They've been here with you for the past two days."

"Will you stay with me until they come back?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Deeks," she said with assurance, her voice strong and familiar.

"I don't remember coming here," he said, his face troubled as he tried to remember.

"You slept on the flight over," she told him.

"Did he drug me?" he asked warily.

"Who?"

"Jürgen."

"He wasn't on the plane, Marty and doesn't know you're here," she said firmly.

His mind was filling up again, memories tumbling into his mind, obliterating the white emptiness with flickering scenes of vivid horror that made him wince in pain as each one flashed by and then flitted into the shadows. He gripped Kensi's hand tightly as he tried to deal with them all and he began to pant as his heart raced until she took his face in her hands and made him look at her.

"George told me Sheila's been missing you," she said softly. "Remember how scared you were to ride her the first time? I have the pictures to prove it."

His mind swirled with confusion, but as Kensi continued to talk about Sheila he began to relax and let images of the big horse fill his mind. He longed for those days on the ranch when all he had to think about was the simple act of riding Sheila across an open field.

"Can I go to the ranch?" he asked.

"I think that can be arranged," a bald man said quietly from the doorway.

Deeks pushed himself back into his pillow, eyeing the unknown man with suspicion as he quickly looked at Kensi to find out if he was a threat.

"This is Dr. Packer, Marty," she said calmly. "He's been taking care of you since you got here."

Deeks let himself breathe then, biting his lip as he gave Kensi an embarrassed look.

"Sorry, Doc. I'm not myself just yet," Deeks said.

"Understandable, Mr. Deeks," the doctor said, never moving from the doorway. "I read your medical reports from Germany and have talked with Dr. Getz and had a rather long conversation with a terrifying woman named Henrietta Lange. I'm glad she's on our side."

"Me too," Deeks said, a crooked grin making him look like his old self.

"I would like you to spend the night here, so I can monitor your vitals now that you're back with us," Packer said. "But, in the morning, if everything looks good, I'll release you to George and he can take you home."

"Sounds like you know him," Deeks said.

"George and I go way back," the doctor smiled. "He stole my girlfriend and then had the audacity to marry her. I never let him forget it either."

"I'd like to hear that story," Deeks said with a gentle laugh.

"She never liked him, son," George said as he came up behind and clapped the doctor on the shoulder. "He was too full of himself and Josie saw right through him."

"We did team roping events together at all the rodeos when we were young," Dr. Packer said with a laugh. "But I was better at it, admit it George."

"Never, Pack," George said as he moved around the doctor and went to stand beside Deeks.

"Stubborn old mule," the doctor said as he came to stand beside his old friend. "Can I check your vitals, Mr. Deeks?"

"Call me Marty," Deeks said.

The doctor nodded and then began to examine his patient slowly, always asking permission whenever he touched him and telling him in advanced what he was going to do. Deeks slowly relax as the doctor spoke softly to him, but looked to George ever so often, his solid presence making him feel safe and comforted.

"Your blood pressure is a little high, but you seem to be recovering physically," Dr. Packer told him. "But, Dr. Getz still wants you on anti-depressants."

"Not sure they're working," Deeks said quietly, his eyes flicking back to the window as he spoke.

"Give 'em a chance, Marty," he replied. "I'll check back in the morning and then let George and the ranch work a little magic. It's a peaceful place."

"Yeah, I remember," Marty whispered.

"No riding Sheila, though," he said as he stood at the door. "Little too soon for that, but you should try and walk a little everyday as long as someone is with you."

"I like him," Deeks said as the doctor left.

"He's a better doctor than a roper," George laughed briefly, but his eyes searched Deeks' face with concern. "Nice to have you back, son."

"I can't remember anything about the last few days," Deeks said, his eyes confused as he looked from Kensi to George. "What happened?"

"You decided to go to sleep for a couple of days," Kensi said. "Nate says it's a coping mechanism."

"You're not gonna tell me why, are you?" Deeks said solemnly.

"Let yourself rest, son," George said as his hand came to rest solidly on Deeks' shoulder.

Deeks looked down at George's hand and felt a brief flare of anxiety, but he pushed it down, letting himself remember the first time he'd hugged him and how comforted he had been by the acceptance it represented. He trusted this man, so he let himself rest and eased slowly toward sleep, the feel of George's rough, warm hand allaying some of his fear and warding off the haunting memories that lurked in the back of his mind.

...

Joe watched a warm smile spread across Deeks' face as they drove down the final stretch of road to the ranch house. The dogs were already barking and some of the horses, including Sheila were crowded along the fence line, curious about the oncoming truck. Joe tried to still the worry he felt inside, but the smile on Deeks' face was helping to defuse some of his long simmering fear. He was still jumpy and had been since he'd first seen Deeks lying unresponsive in the exam room after Jürgen had gotten to him again. His face had been like a blank slate and it had scared the hell out of him. His anger had never left, but now that Deeks was at the ranch he fought to keep all of that internal turmoil off his face and out of his voice. Deeks didn't need to see it; he needed to heal, to find some peace and to experience what it was like to be free again.

"Sheila's all fuzzy," Deeks said with a laugh.

"She's wearing her winter coat, son," George said as he brought the truck to a stop.

Joe leaped out of the truck and tried to scatter the dogs so they wouldn't knock Deeks over. He unthinkingly wrapped his arm around his waist to steady him when he got out of the truck and felt him suddenly stop and freeze at his touch. Joe looked quickly at him, and saw him bite his lip and shake his head, finally relaxing as he threw an arm over his shoulder and let Joe help him through the yelping dogs. When they got to the steps, Deeks turned to him and Joe could sense the emotion he was feeling, but his words surprised him.

"This reminds me of the first time I came here, only it was me helping you up the stairs back then," Deeks said and then squeezed Joe's shoulder. "Sorry I froze back there, man."

"That's okay, dumbass," Joe laughed. "I'll let you off with a warning."

"What kind of warning?" he asked.

"A warning that I'll kick your butt if you don't let me help you while you're here," Joe said quietly. "I don't want to see you stumbling around like some old geezer."

"What the hell is a geezer?" Deeks asked with a crooked grin.

"An old man like me," Jim Littleshield said as he came out onto the porch.

Elan Hand followed him out and walked down the steps to stand solidly next to Deeks, his eyes soft and his face struggling with emotion.

"Good to see you, Cuz," he said, his voice rough and deep. "You can lean on me if you need to."

"Thanks, buddy," Deeks said, his eyes bright with sudden tears. "It's good to see you too."

"I'm getting a little cold here, guys," Kensi said from behind, encouraging them to head inside.

They had almost made it up the few stairs, when Boo came charging across the porch and collided with Deeks' broken ankle, sending him tumbling into Joe and then onto his knees. Joe and Elan both tried to catch him before he fell but were too late and he landed hard on his hip before rolling onto his back on the porch, sucking in his breathe at the pain. Boo scrambled onto his chest and happily began licking his face, her tail thumping excitedly against his stomach. Deeks instantly erupted in laughter, his good hand buried in the scruff of the puppies' neck. Joe felt tears sting his eyes and he was pretty sure his tough cousin was fighting the same feelings as they watched Deeks continue to laugh, his face and body finally free of all the tension and the fear that had been haunting him.

"Welcome home, Marty," George said softly.

...


	31. Chapter 31

**Vengeance: Chapter 31**

...

The three men watched from the window as Joe helped Deeks limp to the fence. He had been quiet after lunch and Joe's suggestion that they visit Sheila had brought a welcomed smile to his face. The snow had stopped, but it was still freezing cold and Joe had fussed over him, making him wear one of his heavy flannel shirts over a long sleeve thermal undershirt before helping him into a fleece lined overcoat and pulling a brown woolen watch cap down over his ears. Deeks smiled sheepishly as he allowed Joe to dress him, listening to him with a bemused look on his face as he admonished him about watching where he stepped and holding onto him on the way down the stairs. The two had finally walked out on the back porch, sniping at each other as they went as brothers usually do. Now they stood side-by-side at the fence feeding carrots to the big bay mare and laughing as she snuffled at Deeks' woolen cap and finally moved to push her head into his chest.

"What did the bastard do to him, George?" Elan asked. "I can see the pain in his eyes."

"It's what's behind the pain that scares me," George answered.

"He's so thin and so skittish," Jim Littleshield said softly. "I just brushed his arm at lunch and he almost jumped out of his skin."

"He hasn't told me about that yet," George said. "But the rope burns and bruises I saw all over his body at that hospital in Germany made me sick. It looked like he'd been hogtied and then ridden down and trampled."

George's voice dropped almost to a whisper as he told them about his many injuries and how, in the beginning, he had jerked away whenever someone touched him or even came near him, his eyes blind with fear. When he was done he was rigid with anger and he turned away from them and went outside and they saw him walking quickly toward the barn.

"Joe said they kept him tied down the whole time so he couldn't fight back," Elan said. "A man who does that is a coward."

"He's more than that. He's a sick predator," Kensi said as she came to stand next to the two men. "Marty believes he's coming for him and if he makes it this far, we need to be ready."

"We'll watch out for him, Kensi," Jim Littlefield said quietly. "I alerted the neighbors to be on the lookout for anyone they don't know."

"Joe told us they were laying a trap for Jürgen in Washington," Elan said as he watched Deeks' reunion with Sheila.

"I hope they kill him," Kensi said bitterly, her words catching in her throat.

"You are carrying a lot of anger," Littleshield said.

"You would be too, if you'd seen where they'd kept him and the shape he was in when we found him," Kensi said as she pulled on her coat and headed out the door.

The two men watched as Kensi joined Deeks and Joe at the fence. Kensi never took her eyes off of Deeks as he leaned against the neck of the big horse, his broken hand held tightly against his chest. Kensi stepped closer to him and tentatively wrapped her arm around his waist and they both saw him stiffen for a second or two, before turning toward her, his face softening with an apology.

"That man almost broke him, Elan," Jim Littleshield said. "It hurts my heart to see him this way. He's a good man. When you told me about that old straw hat of his being washed back in during the memorial service, I felt a chill. Now I feel another one. The spirit of the man who did this is all around him and he is evil. He wants to possess Marty's soul and we can't let that happen. He's coming, Elan. He's coming here to kill that boy."

"Uncle, you are scaring the crap out of me with all this spiritual stuff," Elan said with a shiver. "Callen and Sam are an elite team and they'll get him in Washington."

Jim Littleshield stared at him for a long time and then nodded once and went into the kitchen. Elan looked back out the window, his fingers nervously drumming on the side of his leg as his brow creased into a frown. He looked back at his uncle before sighing in resignation and walking over to the gun cabinet by the fireplace. He took a deep breath and began to shake out the muscles in his arms, rotating his head to stretch out the muscles in his neck. He opened the door of the cabinet and took out one of the rifles, checking it over expertly and then reached for a box of ammunition. He rested the gun across the crook of his arm and then swiftly loaded it. When he was done, he stood staring down at the floor, his features still. When he turned back to face the window, his eyes were sharp and focused and his jaw was tense with determination. He watched silently as the three people laughed at something, but his demeanor never changed. He walked quietly toward the back door, glancing at his uncle as he pulled on his jacket, the two men nodding to one another in understanding and then Elan silently slipped out. He trotted quickly to the barn and saddled his black horse, mounting swiftly in one fluid motion he reined the horse around and galloped out across the snowy meadow toward the creek, his rifle held close as his eyes searched the horizon.

...

...

"You cold?" Joe asked. "Do you need to go in?"

"No," Deeks answered. "You and Kens go ahead. I'd really like to stay out here a little longer."

"Would you like me to stay with you?" Kensi asked hesitantly.

"No. I need a little time without you both fussing over me." The words came out a little harsher than he intended and he smiled crookedly to soften them. "I'll be fine. Besides, you can watch me from the house and if I fall over I expect you to come running."

"Smart ass," Joe said as he turned to leave, dragging a reluctant Kensi along with him.

Deeks could hear her protests as they walked away and Joe's urgings to give him space and he hoped he hadn't hurt their feelings. He wasn't sure why he wanted to be alone just now. Being alone in his cell had been terrifying, but here at the ranch he felt at peace and he needed to experience what that was like again, to be alone and not feel afraid. He leaned his cheek against Sheila's warm neck and let his eyes roam across the hushed landscape. The snow had softened everything and the grey sky hung heavily behind the pale birches in the distance and he found himself listening for the calls of birds and when he heard their muted cries, he was instantly transported back to when this journey began. He remembered standing in the old Delta town of Locke feeling angrier than he'd ever felt in his life and the cries of the Sandhill Cranes flying over had stopped him just on the edge of rage. He let his mind wander over that time so long ago, when he thought he would lose Kensi and Callen and Sam and be alone forever after, devoid of his whole makeshift family except for Hetty. Even the possibility of that kind of loneliness had frightened him, not wanting to return to the life of solitude he had lived before he'd met them. But the loneliness he'd felt while tied to the bars in that cell and to that cruel post, knowing everyone he cared about had been tricked into believing he was dead, had scarred him, leaving deep marks on his soul. That had been true loneliness and fear had followed close behind. The embodiment of that fear was still out there and he shivered at the thought of seeing him again and feeling his hands on his skin. He cringed and fought the panic tightening his chest and desperately searched for something to distract him. He wrapped his arms around the neck of the big mare and hung on as the weakening panic spread and his legs began to shake.

He heard muffled footsteps behind him and tried to control his response, knowing that if he let go of Sheila he wouldn't be able to stand. He took in a breath, testing to see if he smelled the sharp hint of tobacco, but it wasn't there and he dared to look at the man approaching.

"I thought you might like some hot coffee," Jim Littleshield said softly. "It's gonna snow again real soon, so don't stay out here too long."

He took the mug of coffee in his shaking hand and drank deeply, waiting for his heart to slow down as he leaned heavily against the fence.

"I remember standing here with George after my run-in with those bull riders when we were teenagers," Littleshield said. "He had to hold me up. I was afraid every time I heard a noise or someone coming, that's why he brought me here. You can see a man coming from a long way off here. I finally grew easy, but it took awhile. This old place has a peaceful spirit that surrounds it. It's a strong spirit and the people here are strong too."

"Is this where George grew up?" Deeks asked, relaxing as the old man talked.

"No. This place belonged to his uncle on his mother's side," Jim said quietly. "He took George in after his father threw him out for beatin' the shit out of him. His dad was a mean old bastard. His uncle was kicked in the head by a horse and died just after George got married. He left the place to George and he and Josie built this house."

Littleshield walked over and rested his arms on the top of the fence, staring out over the field, his breath visible in the deepening cold. They stood silently together for some time watching a hawk sweeping low over the few remaining clumps of dry grass as three horses shuffled through the snow heading for the barn.

"Take my hand, boy," he said, offering his left hand.

Deeks set his coffee mug on a fence post and reached across to grasp the old indian's hand.

"You have strong hands and a good heart," he said. "You'll live a good, long life and this fearful time will get lost in your memories. Let the peace of this place into your heart. It will make you stronger."

"You a psychic, Cousin Jim?" Deeks asked with a slight, curious smile.

"Some call me a prophet," he laughed. "But Elan doesn't believe it. He's a tough man after what he's seen and done. Sometimes I see things. I can't explain it, but I trust it."

"Did you see me coming?" Deeks asked.

"No, but you came when you needed to be here," Littleshield said. "Just like now. George brought you here for a reason. You are family and we won't let you face that evil man alone."

"He's coming isn't he?" Deeks asked softly.

"Yes." The old man put a callused hand Deeks' shoulder. "But you aren't alone anymore. We're here and we are hard men. Harder than you know. You can trust us."

"I do trust you," Deeks said, a smile suddenly warming his face as the words of the old indian settled in.

"Well, then we better get inside," Littleshield said. "Cause, trust me, it's about to snow and you look cold."

Deeks laughed as two men turned toward the house and Sheila whinnied a short goodbye before following the fence line down to the barn where George put her in her stall. The snow started to fall soon after, but by then the smoke was rising from the chimney and mixing with the heavy grey clouds scudding across the little valley. George walked out of the barn and caught a glimpse of Elan as he finished one last loop around the perimeter of the ranch, his black horse stark against the snowy meadow. George waved his hat and Elan spurred his horse toward the warmth of home.

...

...

Deeks laughed softly as Boo tried to crawl up into his lap as he sat in the worn leather chair next to the fireplace after dinner, his broken foot propped on a pillow on the wooden coffee table. He reached down and pulled her into his lap and after a few sloppy kisses she snuggled down in his arms and fell asleep. He gently ruffled her soft fur as he stared into the mesmerizing fire, the color slowly darkening as the logs settled. His mind became slightly fuzzy from the smoke and he nodded off a couple of times, but mostly he just enjoyed the comfort and warmth of the fire and let the muted conversations of the others drift over him. This felt like home, or what he'd always dreamed home should feel like. He'd pictured this fireplace in his mind when he was tied to the bars of his cell and suddenly shivered at the memory of that dark place as a twinge of pain rippled across his ribs. Now, as he looked around the room, those images faded, replaced by the people who surrounded him, his family. He still wasn't completely used to thinking that way and wasn't entirely sure he deserved to have them, but he selfishly clung to their words of acceptance and it steadied him and eased some of his fears. He could almost feel their eyes on him from time to time, watching to see if he was doing okay or if he might need anything and it touched him to be so cared for.

Kensi had been talking quietly with Elan, but when she saw him looking at her, she excused herself and came over to sit on the floor in front of the fire, her back resting against his leg. He couldn't resist entangling his fingers in her dark hair, closing his eyes as she reached up and caught them with her own, bringing them to her lips. The feeling of warmth her touch aroused in him was so familiar, but it was one he never thought he would ever experience again and he choked on a sudden flush of foreboding.

He could lose her again if Jürgen came. He could lose them all. He had no doubt that Jürgen would come for him and wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone in this room, everyone he loved and he felt the old panic rising from deep within him. He knew they would all try and protect him, but they didn't know Jürgen, they didn't know the depth of his depravity or the depth of his desire to have him back so he could punish him or how vicious he could be to make that happen. He suddenly felt a terrifying fear and his eyes swept over the people in the room and came to rest on George. Jürgen would kill him if he had the chance and he felt his heart race as that uncontrolled fear exploded in his chest and he struggled to get up, to run, to lead Jürgen away from them.

"I have to go," he stammered. "I can't let him come here."

Kensi had felt the tremor in his hand and heard the panic in his voice and she turned to try and calm him, but almost panicked herself when she saw his face. Joe was instantly beside him as he stood swaying next to the chair, the puppy whining at his feet.

"Take it easy, man," Joe said. "We're here. We won't let him get to you again."

"No, Joe. No!" he shouted desperately. "You don't understand. He'll kill you all and I can't let that happen. He just wants me, so let me go."

"We're not letting you go anywhere, son," George said as all of them gathered around him.

George stood solidly in front of him and then wrapped him in a hug. He struggled to break free, gasping as his fear for them overwhelmed him, but George held him tight as he cried out in anguish, telling them again and again that they didn't understand.

"Then tell us, Cuz," Elan said. "Tell us what he did to you so we know who we're dealing with, because, Marty, we are not letting you face this guy alone. You can hardly stand up by yourself. Do you really think you can deal with this bastard on your own?"

"No. I know I can't," Deeks whispered as he sagged in George's arms. He slowly collapsed back into the chair, and hung his head between his knees, his arms covering his head.

"So you just want to let him take you?" Joe asked harshly. "Is that your grand plan, dumbass?"

"I don't want him to hurt any of you like he hurt me," he replied softly. "I can't stand the thought of that. All of you are the best thing to ever happen to me and I can't bear the thought of his hands on any of you. It would kill me to see him touch you like that. You don't know what it's like to have no control over what he does to you or where he touches you, his hands never stopping, constantly moving all over you until you scream for him to stop. But, he doesn't stop, he never stops. God, I couldn't watch him do that to Kensi or to you Joe. I'd rather die first."

They were all silent when he finished, none of them sure what to say.

"He would kill you, George," Deeks said through his tears. "Just like he killed his own father. He lives on hate and he tried to get me to say I hated you, George, but I couldn't do that. He doesn't believe a father can love a son and he didn't believe me when I told him you loved me. He beat me unconscious for that."

"Sonofabitch," Joe whispered as he sat down hard on the coffee table.

George knelt down next to him and draped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Kensi had tears in her eyes as she gently wrapped her arm around his waist, her forehead resting against his cheek. Each man reached out to touch him and he didn't flinch. Finally, Deeks leaned back in the chair and stared once again into the fire.

"You should let me go," he said distantly. "I'm not your blood. I'm just some stray that stumbled in here and you took pity on. I'm not worth dying for."

"You are so full of shit, Deeks," Joe said angrily as he leaned toward him. "You think this little tactic of yours is gonna work? You think we are just gonna agree with you and let you walk out that door? Hell, you'll get stuck in the snow before you reach the truck, you shithead."

"Do you love me, son?" George suddenly asked, resting his hand on his knee.

"What?" Deeks voice wavered as he turned to look at him.

"You said he wanted you to hate me," George said. "Do you?"

"What? No," Deeks said roughly. "I could never hate you."

"And you're willing to die for me," George said. "You're willing to die for everyone in this room."

"Just let me do this, please, George," he pleaded.

"You love me, don't you son?" George asked again, reaching out and gripping his arm, forcing him to look at him.

"Yes." he whispered as tears clouded his eyes.

George pulled him forward and hugged him, holding him as he lost control.

"Love's a strong bond, son," George finally said softly, putting his hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. "It's what keeps a family together. You're willing to die to protect us, but I'm not willing to let you do that and no one else in this room is either. You're my son now, and I'll be damned if this family is gonna let that sick, two-bit bushwhacker hurt you anymore."

"I don't know what to say," Deeks said, looking at each person in turn. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes we do, Cuz," Elan said. "You think we could live with ourselves if we didn't?"

"Punch him, Kens," Joe said. "He's being dense on purpose."

"We're partners Deeks, and you know I can take care of myself," Kensi said, brushing her fingers along his cheek.

"Trust us boy," Jim Littleshield said. "I told you, George and I are tough old bastards."

"You're all crazy. You know that, right?" Deeks said, shaking his head.

"That's why you fit right in, dumbass," Joe said.

...


	32. Chapter 32

**Vengeance: Chapter 32**

...

She got up as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake him after last night and went to stand by the window. She pushed the curtains apart and her warm breath quickly fogged the icy glass and she smiled as she wrote their names in before it faded. She giggled quietly like a schoolgirl at the childishness of it, but she couldn't help herself and it made things seem somewhat normal. She pulled herself away from the view and turned back toward the bed to watch him sleep and to search for any signs that he might be having nightmares again. She'd had to wake him twice during the night, once when she was afraid he would hurt himself as he thrashed on the bed. He'd barely woken each time, mumbling an apology the first time and later the names of the two South African boys before falling back into an even deeper sleep. Now he was resting peacefully. Her heart quickened as she looked at him, and she wrapped the flannel robe tightly around her body before going back to sit next to him on the bed. Boo poked her head out from under the covers and yawned widely before crawling toward her and flopping over on her back for a belly rub. The little dog's antics had been good for Deeks and this particular habit always got a smile out of him.

"What time is it?" he asked sleepily, his voice muffled by the blankets and his pillow.

"Too early to get up," she said, unable to stop herself from running her hand across his short hair.

Her touch made him raise his head and he turned over gingerly until he was lying on his back, his head propped up on the pillow. He reached for her hand and looked down as he entwined his fingers with hers, his face placid, but slowly forming into a frown. She worried over the hint of sadness on his face and moved closer to him. Her eyes rested on some of the contusions and bruises that still covered his chest and she grew angry and he noticed, reaching up to raise her chin, looking at her with troubled blue eyes.

"Don't," he said simply.

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "Like I'm a different person."

She dropped her head and sighed before picking up Boo and putting her on the floor. She slipped off her robe and crawled under the covers, propping herself up on her elbow as she stared at him.

"I don't think that, Marty. It just makes me angry to see what he did to you," she said.

"I don't want to think about that right now, Kens," he said. "I don't want to think about him."

She edged closer in response until her lips hovered over his. She kissed him tenderly on the lips several times and then on both cheeks before taking his head in her hands and softly kissing his eyes. He looked wistfully at her and she felt his hand on the back of her neck as he drew her mouth to his, kissing her so sweetly she felt herself melt into him. When he stopped, she saw his longing and it made her smile.

"You're wearing my old LAPD T-shirt," he said softly.

"I found it on the bed in the safe house," she said, but went no further, unable to talk about the night she thought she'd lost him. "I've worn it every night since then."

"Must be pretty ripe by now," he said, smiling cockily.

"I wash it," she said indignantly.

"Kens?" His face became quite serious and the sadness had returned.

"Yeah?"

"Will you make love to me?" he asked, his eyes suddenly filled with uncertainty.

"I don't want to hurt you," she stammered. "Your ribs haven't healed and..."

He put his thumb over her lips to stop whatever she was going to say and then pulled her down next to him, brushing back her hair before kissing her tenderly as his eyes searched her face.

"Touch me, Kens. I need you to touch me," he whispered.

She reached for him again, kissing him passionately until neither one could breathe. When they separated, her hand was resting on his chest, covering the pale crisscrossed marks that had yet to fade away.

"Can I have my shirt back?" he asked with a growing smile.

She sat up with a seductive look on her face and slowly removed the LAPD shirt and then stood by the side of the bed and slipped off her pajama bottoms, watching as his eyes roamed over her body.

"You're still so beautiful," he said as if it had been ages since he'd seen her.

She slipped under the covers and snuggled up close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He held his breath as her hand pushed the covers down, exposing the fading bruises that still covered his body and she looked up to see if he was having second thoughts. He closed his eyes briefly as if gathering himself and then nodded to her as his good hand wrapped around her back until reaching her breast, his fingers lightly caressing her and making her smile.

"Some things never change," she said quietly and kissed his chest.

She began to gently rub her thumb back and forth across his nipple and felt him tense slightly before slowly relaxing as she continued. Her mouth closed over his other nipple and her tongue began to tease him and she heard a low groan as he responded. His hand caressed her breast as hers moved gently down his body, stoking his stomach and coming to rest lightly on his abdomen. She felt him flinch slightly under her hand and she looked quickly up at his face, but his eyes were closed and his jaw tense. She was afraid to run her hands over his broken ribs, knowing it would be too painful and hard for him to take, so she began to kiss the hollow of his throat, stopping only to blow warm air lightly over each kiss. When she heard him laugh quietly she joined him, relieved by his response.

He turned his body toward her and she began to stroke his back before sliding her hand down over his butt and along the back of his thigh, pulling his leg over hers. She continued to place slow, wet kisses over the marks on his body and she could hear him begin to breathe faster when her hand began to stroke him as he became aroused. She rolled over onto her back and gently pulled him with her until he was straddling her. She saw the raw need in his eyes, but she could tell he was in some pain and she stopped moving.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she slowly stroked his thighs.

"I'm good, Kens," he whispered. "Please don't stop. I need this. I need you."

He eased himself down on top of her then, his warm mouth closing over her breast and she felt her own need explode as his tongue licked and excited her and she began to move beneath him. She let him set the pace and he slowly began to find a rhythm, his good hand caressing her breast as he entered her. She heard him catch his breath and she hesitated, but he whispered her name and they came in unison. She heard his deep sigh as he rolled off of her, but he hissed in pain and she reached out to hold him, wrapping him in her arms and gently stroking his arm as he cooled down.

"God, Kens," he said. "Not my finest hour, or I should say minutes, but you have no idea what this means to me."

She pulled back to look at him and saw a glint of tears and she quickly kissed him.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," he said as he turned his eyes away. "I just needed to remember what it felt like to be touched like that by someone who loves me."

She felt such a deep ache when she heard those words that tears started in her eyes and she reached up to caress his cheek, urging him to look at her. When he did, she saw the deep shadows and hurt behind his eyes and she couldn't stop her tears from slipping down her cheeks.

"Please don't cry," he said. "I need your strength, Kens."

So, she wrapped her arms tenderly around him and held him as he snuggled his head between her breasts. She finally felt his muscles relax as his breathing quieted and she gently kissed the top of his head as he slowly fell asleep in her arms.

...

...

Hetty waved at the now familiar nurses as she walked toward Mack's room. She had been his constant visitor for the last two days, known as Aunt Sophie to the staff. She stopped briefly outside Callen's room and saw him shake his head, letting her know nothing had happened in the hour she had taken for dinner. She nodded imperceptibly to him and continued on, entering Mack's room just as one of the nurses was coming out.

"How's he doing, Jean?" Hetty asked.

"He seems a little anxious tonight," she replied.

All the nurses had been briefed on the undercover operation and this section of the trauma ward had a limited number of patients including Mack, playing the part of Marty Deeks in room 3120 and a badly wounded soldier, Ryan Moloney, Callen's alias, in the room next door. The rooms on either side of the two men were empty. Jean Miller, the nurse, was actually an undercover agent assigned out of the DC office and had been a field nurse in Iraq for two tours. She had the night duty. Sam Hannah was the orderly on duty and he went in to see Callen as Hetty entered Mack's room, closing the door behind her.

"I understand you have been a little nervous, Mr. McDonald," Hetty said as she settled into her chair.

"Please call me Mack, Hetty," he asked, "When you use my last name it reminds me of my father."

"Don't you like being reminded of your father?" she asked curiously.

"I loved my father, but I don't want to think about him," he answered. "It's too hard, especially now."

"We won't let anything happen to you, Mack," Hetty said, trying to reassure him.

"That's what my father told my sister and me the day they were killed," he said bitterly.

"You know he did his best to save you both," she said as she stood and came to stand next to the bed.

"I know he was trying to rescue us, but he only ended up getting himself killed," Mack said softly as he stared at the ceiling. "Katy too."

"Do you blame him for her death?" she asked gently.

"I blame myself," he answered. "She wouldn't have been in the Congo if I hadn't talked her into going with me to see the mountain gorillas."

"Shouldn't the blame be placed on the insurgents that kidnapped you?" Hetty asked reasonably.

"Their all dead," he said.

"Why did you agree to be part of this operation, Mack?" Hetty asked. "You knew it was dangerous and you knew there was the possibility that you could be wounded again or even killed. Why put yourself at risk for someone you don't even know?"

"Because of the look on Kensi's face the day I met your team," he answered without hesitation. "She wanted me to know how important Deeks was to her, to all of you. I know what it feels like to lose hope and to see the most important people in your life killed. I don't want her, or any of you to feel like that."

Hetty gripped his arm tightly.

"I knew your father, Mack. He was a good man and he would be proud of you," she said. "He was brave to do what he did and so are you."

"I'm scared to death, to be honest," Mack said, smiling self-consciously. "I think I might pee my pants if that guy Jürgen comes in my room."

"Well don't expect me to clean it up, Goofy," Sam said through his com, causing Mack to jump at the sudden voice in his ear.

"Will you stop doing that?" Mack pleaded.

"We've got your back," Callen said calmly. "And thanks for doing this, Mack. It's good to have you on our team."

A proud smile flashed across Mack's face at that and Hetty took a long speculative look at him before she turned to leave.

"I'll see you in the morning, Mack," she said. "And we can discuss your future."

"I think Hetty has plans for you, kid," Callen said over the coms.

"What kind of plans?" he asked with surprise.

"Once she has her eye on you, there's no escape," Sam said with a laugh.

"She always gets what she wants," Callen told him with a knowing chuckle.

Mack said nothing in reply, just swallowed nervously as the door to his room opened and he stared into the face of a stranger.

"Oh sorry. They must have given me the wrong room number," the man said apologetically as he backed slowly out.

Sam walked quickly into the hall and watched as the man wandered down the hall, peeking into several rooms before laughing and greeting someone loudly in a room at the far end. Sam breathed a little easier and poked his head into Mack's room to tell him everything was fine, before returning to Callen's bedside to monitor the hospital's security feeds. They cut their coms so they could talk about what Hetty might have in mind for the young man next door, laughing at his naïveté and at Hetty's instincts in finding agents and geeks. As the night faded into the early hours of the morning, Sam rose to make his rounds of the ward. He passed another orderly pushing a gurney into an empty room and eyed a janitor as he cleaned out a trash container. He decided to check the room the visitor had entered earlier and paused at the silence. The monitors were functioning, but the patient didn't appear to be breathing, so he moved immediately to his bedside to check his pulse when he heard something behind him. He turned, but not fast enough and was hit viciously in the head and knocked to the floor. His hands were tied behind his back with a zip tie and he was gagged before being dragged into the bathroom. Then the man pushed the patient's call button and waited for the duty nurse. When she arrived, he quickly subdued her and gagged her as well, shoving her body under the bed.

The assailant was dressed in scrubs and walked quickly out into the dimly lit hall and turned toward Mack's room. The man with the gurney was waiting for him in the empty room next door. The two men conferred briefly, checked their weapons and hid them under the loose sheets piled on the gurney, before pushing it out into the hall and halting outside their target's room. Sam's assailant pushed open the door and slipped silently up to Mack's side as the other man pushed the gurney inside and shut the door. Mack was sleeping soundly, but stirred as the man touched him.

"I don't need anything," he said sleepily. Then his eyes opened wide, realizing instantly that he was in trouble.

"Where's Sam?" he shouted.

The man pistol-whipped him across the face and he slumped unconscious against the pillow, blood running slowly down his cheek. The man quickly pulled out his IV and with the help of his accomplice, transferred his body onto the other gurney, totally covering him in sheets. They had just started toward the door when it flew open.

"Federal agents," Callen shouted as he and Jean Miller breached the room side by side, their Sigs in firing position. The men responded immediately, bringing their own weapons up, but were too late as Callen and Jean fired together multiple times, sending one man crashing into the back wall while the other dropped dead where he'd been standing. The two agents quickly kicked their firearms away before checking to make sure they were dead.

"Mack?" Callen yelled as he threw the sheet off of him, his face deepening into a frown when he saw the blood on his face. "The bastards pistol-whipped him."

"I'll take care of him, Callen," Jean said.

"What the hell happened to Sam?" Callen rushed out the door as a couple of security guards rounded the corner in the hall. "One of you stay with Jean, the other with me."

Callen moved down the hall carefully checking each room, his gun ready as he searched for Sam. He heard a groan as he passed the closed door of a patient's room and nodded to the security guard to follow him in. He slammed the door open and checked that the room was safe and then heard another groan coming from under the bed. The security guard dropped to his knees and gently pulled the nurse to him and lifted her in his arms, turning to carry her out of the room.

"Sam," Callen yelled as he pulled open the door to the bathroom. He was on his knees beside his partner in an instant, quickly removing the gag and cutting his hands free. Blood from the wound over his eye pooled on the floor and it took Callen some time to wake him. When his eyes did open, they were unfocused, but he struggled to stand and finally did with his partner's help, swaying slightly before he was able to walk out of the bathroom and into the now, brilliantly lit room. Sam slumped into a chair and one of the interns came in to check him over, annoying him and causing him to finally say something.

"Back off," he said angrily, pushing the young doctor away.

"You're bleeding, Sam," Callen said. "You need stitches."

"Is Mack okay?" Sam asked as the intern began to press gauze pads against Sam's head to staunch the flow of blood.

"The guy pistol-whipped him too," Callen answered. "He has a nasty gash, but he'll be fine."

"You get the bastard?" Sam asked, his voice strained as the question hung in the air between them.

"It wasn't Jürgen," Hetty said from just outside the door. "He obviously knew we would be watching for him, and he got cagey."

"He'll try again," Callen said.

"Probably," she answered, her anger barely contained as she watched the intern take a tray from one of the nurses and prepare to stitch up Sam's head wound.

She locked eyes with Callen and he followed her out into the hall and down toward Mack's room.

"We've lost the element of surprise, Mr. Callen," Hetty said. "He had to know we'd be lying in wait for him, yet he tried anyway, albeit with mercenaries, and he almost pulled it off."

"You think he's suspicious?" Callen asked.

"He's wickedly smart, Mr. Callen," she answered. "I've got Eric and Nell trying to track him down and Faolan Boyle as well. We need to go on the offensive, Mr. Callen. Waiting for him to make the next move is not an option, now."

"He may not have come himself, Hetty, but he had to be close by," Callen said.

"Yes. I'm counting on that and on Eric and Nell to find him," she said. "Using Mack as bait again is not something I'm comfortable with."

"Do we have a choice?" Callen asked.

"I'm pulling him out, Mr. Callen," she answered firmly. "Find a replacement."

...

...

He drew deeply on his cigarette as he stood in the icy cold with a phone pressed to his ear listening to Faolan Boyle tell him about the failed kidnap attempt at the hospital. Pleased that his diversionary tactic had worked, he smiled thinly as he watched his team of mercenaries load weapons into the trunk of the rental car from a van that had met them on the outskirts of town. The camo pants and jackets they were all wearing marked them as nothing more than hunters looking for an exciting winter experience in the wilds of Colorado. They had all flown into Fort Collins together and would soon be on their way for the short drive up into Wyoming and the childhood home of the FBI Agent Joseph Atwood.

Faolan had gone back through all of Granger's files and the agent's name had been prevalent in all of them. A note Granger had written in the margin of the final report from the Senate hearings had caught Jurgen's eye and alerted him to just how close the man and his former captive had become. Granger had even mentioned him once, telling him he would have him killed too as soon as he was done with Deeks. Jürgen had tucked the name in the back of his mind and it had paid off. He'd figured that if the two were that close then perhaps they were hiding in a place they didn't think he knew about. He had no desire to kill the FBI agent, but if he got between him and the blond man, he would not hesitate to end his life. The words written by Granger in the margin had irritated him, calling them "...as close as brothers". His gloved hand clinched into a tight fist as he felt a deep jealousy stirring at the thought of someone being that close to his former captive and he looked once again at the information Faolan had found after hacking the FBI. He gripped his phone tightly as he read the personal details about Joe Atwood and he felt nothing but icy hatred as he looked at the name of the agent's father. He had tried to force his captive to tell him about the man who he claimed was like a father to him, a man he claimed loved him, but the blond man had refused to even tell him his name. He had beat him unmercifully, but he still held out, telling him he wasn't worthy to even know the man's name and that had deeply angered him and still did.

"I know who he is now, my friend," Jürgen said into the icy wind. "Now I know how to make you suffer even more and I will make you watch."

...


	33. Chapter 33

**Vengeance: Chapter 33**

...

He stood partially hidden behind the rough trunks of the Hackberry trees on a rising hill overlooking a bleak, snow covered meadow. Below him, a barbed wire fence ran along the bank of the creek separating the parcel of land he stood on from the property owned by George Atwood. The stand of huge old Cottonwoods on the other side of the creek dotted the stretch of land behind the barn and made surveillance difficult, but not impossible and he continued to watch the man in the cowboy hat through binoculars as he walked toward the barn. He longed for a cigarette, but knew the smell might alert the man to his presence, so he chewed his lip in frustration as he watched, wondering if this was the man who meant so much to the blond man. He frowned at the thought and gripped the binoculars even tighter as he waited.

Two other men had entered the barn earlier and now he tensed as one rode out on a black horse and headed west toward the lower creek, soon followed by a large man on a beautiful sorrel. He felt a touch of nostalgia as he watched the older man head in the opposite direction. He had owned horses once and had found satisfaction in his ability to control their movements and he looked forward to riding again once he had completed what he was about to do. His hand twitched as he scanned the house, looking for any sign of the blue eyed man, his jaw tightening as the tension built within him, anxious to have him under his power again, anxious to touch him and to hear him scream.

He heard someone approaching and turned as two of his men walked between the stark gray trees. They were dressed in white camouflage, their faces obscured behind white ski masks and they kept silent as they moved through the naked trees. He had outlined his plan when they'd arrived at the old house that morning. The couple who lived there had put up little resistance to the two men he had sent in to secure the property and were easily killed. Now, the two men walked quietly past him to begin the operation, almost disappearing against the whiteness of the snow as they moved across the meadow in the muted light. He watched as they stooped to cut the barbed wire between two of the weathered posts, opening a passageway to and from the barn and he felt a sense of excitement, knowing what was coming. He ran his tongue across his lips in anticipation of having his captive back and looked once again through the binoculars, watching and waiting as two more of his men moved silently down the hill and across the meadow, fording the shallow, icy stream with the other two. When they entered the barn, he stepped out from behind the tree and walked confidently down to join them.

He paused just outside the back door to the barn, listening to the surprise in the man's voice as he shouted at the men who surrounded him. He walked inside when he heard a scuffle and saw blood staining the ski mask of one of his men as the other three held the rancher face down on the straw covered floor, struggling with him as he fought. He moved quickly forward and kicked the man viciously in the head and he groaned and lay still.

"This one old man too much for you?" he asked harshly. "Tie him to the post, you idiots."

He wandered over to the stalls while they tied up the old rancher, looking in on a couple of the horses. A large buckskin raised his head as he approached and snorted loudly, his head held high until Jürgen stepped closer, then his ears flattened and his head darted quickly toward him, his teeth bared. Jürgen managed to avoid being nipped by the agitated horse, but it made him smile as he picked up the halter rope hanging outside the stall. As the horse squealed and charged again, he slapped the rope across the animal's eyes, making it shy away and pace his stall before charging once again. Jürgen stepped back and laughed.

"Honcho knows a bastard when he smells one," George said loudly, making Jürgen turn.

"Yes, horses can be quite perceptive, but ultimately controllable," he replied as he walked back to stand in front of the rancher.

"That's what you like to do, isn't it? Control everyone and everything." George was breathing hard as he struggled against the ropes that held him fast to the post. Blood trickled down the side of his face and his voice was deep with anger.

"What is your name?" Jürgen asked.

"George Atwood," he replied.

"Did you tell him you loved him?" Jürgen asked as he reached out and placed his hand around George's throat, slowing pushing his head back against the post.

"Who?" George asked, his eyes wary.

"Ah, you want to play games," Jürgen said lightly. "I play rough, my friend, but I think you know that."

"I saw what you did to him, you bastard," George choked out as Jurgen's hand tightened around his throat.

"I doubt he told you everything," Jürgen laughed. "You have no idea what I did to him and you have no idea what I intend to do to him. He belongs to me."

"He doesn't belong to anyone," George managed to say. "He's his own man."

Jürgen hit him hard in the face and stood back to watch him as he fought to recover from the blow.

"Did you tell him you loved him?" Jürgen asked again, circling the man. "Surely, that's a simple question, even for a dumb cowboy like you."

George watched him beneath hooded eyes as he walked slowly around him.

"You're jealous," George said softly. "But, you don't have a clue about love, do you and that makes you jealous of those who do."

Jürgen lashed out at him with the rope, hitting him several times across the face as he had the horse, his anger at the man suddenly wild and uncontrollable.

"I love him. He's my son," George finally said, making Jürgen stop. "And he loves me like a father."

Jürgen walked up close to him and stared at him, fighting to regain his self-control.

"You are a liar," he shouted into his face. "I will make him deny you. I'll make him deny that love you're so proud of and I will make him do exactly what I want and you will help me do that. I will make you watch and listen to his screams, old man. I will destroy your so-called son."

"You tried that before and failed," George said, but Jürgen saw him tremble as he spoke.

Jürgen walked away and stood looking out at the house. He reached into the pocket of his long dark coat and took out an ornate, silver cigarette case and a lighter. He lit one and silently smoked it, trying to compose himself and ease the irrational anger that was burning inside of him. He needed to touch the blond man. He knew that would calm him.

"This cigarette case belonged to my father," Jürgen said quietly, holding it up so George could see it. "Did he tell you that I killed my father? I hated him and he hated me, so finally, one day I'd had enough of the canings and I took one of his hunting knives and stabbed him. It didn't kill him, but it hurt him enough so that I was able to tie him up in a barn not much different than this one. I took my time then and found that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the screams and all the blood. It made me feel powerful, and I had never felt that way before. I was fifteen."

He walked back to stare at his captive as he finished his cigarette.

"The man you claim as a son tried to kill his real father too, just like me," Jürgen said with a smile. "But he let him live. Perhaps he once loved him as he claims to love you."

"He's nothing like you," George growled. "He let him live because he's not a monster like you."

Jürgen laughed at that and circled him once again.

"I enjoy the feel of his skin," he said quietly and saw the old man's eyes widen at that. "Even after I beat him and he was bloody and streaked with filthy sweat."

"You sick bastard," George whispered.

"He wouldn't tell me your name," Jurgen said, his eyes stormy with the remembered anger. "He said I wasn't worthy, so maybe he does love you, old man. But, love makes you weak. It compromises you. Let's test that theory, shall we, my friend?"

Jürgen pulled his phone out and dialed a number, not having to wait long before it was picked up.

"Whom am I speaking to?" Jürgen asked.

"Joe Atwood. Who is this?"

"Ah, the brother," Jürgen said softly. "My name is Wilhelm Jürgen and I have your father here with me in the barn."

"Don't you hurt him you fucker," Joe yelled with sudden rage.

"Then bring me your newly minted brother and the woman," he said contemptuously. "If you call for help or try and fight me, I will have my men slit your father's throat. An easy decision for you, I would think."

Jürgen smiled as he heard the voices in the background, knowing that terror was flooding through the blond man as he heard what had happened and he felt his excitement growing, confident he was going to see him again and that he would be able to touch him once more. He laughed as the line went dead and he raised the binoculars and waited. It wasn't long before he saw him come out of the house and look out toward the barn and he felt his body quiver in anticipation as his mind raced through his plans for the blond man's final day. He watched breathlessly as the two figures struggled to help him cross the snowy field in front of the barn. The closer they came the more he focused on the blond man's face and the resignation and fear that he saw in his pale blue eyes. He knew he had won and could force him to do whatever he wanted and he would not resist out of fear for the others.

"He knew I was coming, didn't he?" Jürgen asked, but received no answer.

He arranged his men then, one positioned behind George Atwood with a knife at his throat and the other three at the entrance to the barn, their assault rifles trained on the three people walking toward them. He licked his lips, the anticipation almost too much to bear. His mind's eye filled with images of his time with the man with the striking blue eyes and the tantalizing skin and he shivered as he got closer. He stepped back into the dim light of the barn and went to stand by the old rancher, knowing it would lure him in where he could control him and he reached out and closed his hand around the rancher's throat so he would know the threat was real.

...

The walk to the barn was excruciatingly long, especially after the scene in the house. Joe had gone into a rage, throwing things and loudly threatening to kill every single man holding his father and it had taken everything Kensi had to try and make him see reason. The only thing that stopped him was when he paused long enough to look at Deeks, who remained rigid and unmoving as he stood holding onto the mantel over the fireplace, his eyes streaming with tears. Joe had gone to him immediately, realizing what this was doing to him. Even after Kensi wrapped her arms around him, he remained frozen with fear.

"You should have let me go," he finally said softly. "Your father shouldn't have to suffer because of me. This is what I was afraid of. I should never have come here and put all of you in danger."

"Dad didn't want you to go, Marty," Joe said quietly. "None of us did. You know that."

"Don't do anything stupid, Joe," he pleaded sadly. "Please. Jürgen just wants me."

When Kensi saw the look of deep resignation on his face, his eyes full of determination, she spoke to him in the voice of a partner. She knew what he was going to do just by the shadows that haunted his blue eyes.

"Deeks, no," she said, shaking her head frantically. "I talked to Nell. They know he's here. Sam and Callen are on their way, Deeks. The local police are coming from Laramie. We just have to hold out until they get here. We have the weapons."

"Come on, Kens," Deeks said, shaking his head in derision. "You know Callen and Sam won't get here in time to help and if the local cops show up, Jürgen will have them spotted and killed. I can't let that happen."

"So, you're just going to give yourself up?" Joe asked.

"You know I have no choice and so does Jürgen," he said, finally moving slowly toward the door. "He'll kill your dad if I don't go with him."

"He's your father too, Marty," Joe whispered, his voice wavering at the choice ahead of them.

"And I won't let him die because of me," he said. "I don't want any of you to die because of me."

"We might be able to take them," Joe said, but without much conviction.

"No, Joe," Deeks said, stopping and facing him.

He rested his good hand on Joe's shoulder and then pulled him into a hug, holding him close as his eyes filled with tears.

"Thanks for everything, Joe," Deeks said. "I love you, brother. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, dumbass, I know," Joe said as he held on to him as long as he could. "Just like you know I feel the same, little brother."

"I'm taller," Deeks said lightly.

"I'm stronger," Joe choked out through his tears.

Deeks finally let him go and turned toward Kensi. She was holding herself together pretty well, but he could tell she was on the edge of collapse and kept looking furtively around, searching for some solution, some way to escape the inevitable. He forced her to look at him, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply, breaking away only when she cried out his name in a rush of tears. She seemed to shrink in front of him as she finally began to accept the only decision that could be made.

"This can't be happening," she said in exasperation, wiping her eyes before picking up her gun.

"We can't risk it Kens, please," he pleaded. "You have to let me do this. You have to trust me. I know him. I know what he's capable of."

He reached for both of them then and they held each other until he finally took a deep breath and turned toward the door. He stooped to pet each of the dogs, saying his goodbyes and cuddling Boo to his chest before setting her down and telling them all to stay. When he stepped outside, the icy wind sharpened him and he felt his gut tighten, his own rage building as he moved tentatively down the steps. He knew his only choice was to surrender to the man, but he had to make sure that no one else was hurt and he wasn't sure if he would be able to do that, but he knew he had to try. He forced himself to remember as much about Jürgen as he could and he felt a rising flush of abject fear as his mind opened itself to the dark memories he had tried so hard to push into the shadows and lock away, the man's hated voice echoing through his thoughts. He stumbled, the pain in his healing ankle flaring and Joe took his arm and slung it across his shoulder and held him up as he struggled over the uneven ground. Kensi wrapped her arm around his waist and he almost lost his focus, realizing that it was probably the last time he would feel her body against his, but he quickly pushed that thought away as they reached the barn. He had to focus on one man, a man who was willing to destroy the people he loved and he had to make certain that didn't happen.

Deeks took his arm from around Joe's shoulder and hobbled forward, a dark sense of dread nearly crushing him when he saw George tied tightly to the post deep inside the barn. He could feel Kensi's hand tighten around his arm and he knew she was scared for him. Joe was quivering with anger beside him and he prayed he wouldn't do anything stupid as they walked further inside. One of the three mercenaries grabbed Kensi and searched her roughly for weapons, causing Deeks to look quickly at her, his eyes begging her not to fight back. The other two tried to take Joe down, but he lost control, hitting one man solidly in the eye before the other one knocked him unconscious with the butt of his gun. Deeks heard George cry out his son's name as the men tied Joe's hands behind his back and dragged him toward the back of the barn, binding him to the gate where the feed was stored. Kensi's eyes never left Deeks' face as her hands were tied behind her and then to one of the other posts. They held each other's gaze until he heard George moan softly.

"Are you okay, George?" Deeks asked as he limped toward him, ignoring Jürgen.

"I'm fine, son," he answered.

"He hurt you," Deeks said knowingly as he surveyed the blood and bruises on his face.

"Don't worry about me, Marty," George said, trying to stand tall.

Deeks choked up at what had been done to the man he had come to love. It was a love he had never experienced before, one that he now cherished because it made him feel like a child, a child cared for and loved in return.

"I'm so sorry, George," he whispered as he placed a hand on his chest, needing to feel that physical connection with him one last time.

His eyes came to rest on Jürgen's hand as it gripped George's neck and his mind suddenly roared into a white-hot rage and he backhanded Jürgen across the face, knocking him to the ground. He was quickly restrained by two of Jürgen's men, but his eyes never left Jürgen's face.

"Don't you touch him again," Deeks said, his voice low and mean, his eyes full of venom and hatred.

Jürgen's eyes flashed dangerously as he got to his feet, wiping the blood from his lips. He brushed the strands of hay from his clothes before walking over to the man who still held a knife to George's throat and took it from his hand, smiling coldly at Deeks.

"Oh my friend, it is so nice to see you and to continue our little dance," Jürgen said as he pressed the point of the knife into George's flesh, drawing a line of blood across his skin.

Deeks fought to break away from the men who held him, but he wasn't strong enough to get free.

"Should I hurt him even more? Do you really want to resist with so much at stake?" Jürgen was enjoying himself and Deeks knew it. "The more you fight, the worse it will be for your little family here."

Jürgen walked over to Kensi and reached out to stroke her cheek, but she kicked him viciously in the shin and he slapped her hard and then slammed her head back against the post before pressing the knife to her chest. Deeks screamed for him to stop and he did, turning to look at him before strolling slowly back to where Joe was now watching him with a wild look in his eye.

"You're a fucking coward," Joe growled.

Jürgen slashed him across the chest, the blood staining his shirt as Joe cried out at the bright pain.

The smell of the hay and blood almost sent Deeks to his knees, fear closing in on him as he watched Jürgen terrorize the people he loved and his heart began beating wildly in his chest, the fear darkening everything and he felt himself break.

"You win," he said softly and somehow Jürgen heard it and turned to look at him. "Please, stop."

"I like it when you beg," Jürgen said smoothly.

"You are a filthy, fucking pile of shit, Jürgen." Deeks voice rose as he continued. "You're a degenerate bastard fit for hell, you asshole."

Deeks knew how much Jürgen hated to be called dirty names and knew it would draw him away from the others and bring his focus back to him. He stood waiting, watching as Jürgen's eyes became cold and dark as he walked toward him. When he finally stopped, he was so close Deeks could feel his breath on his face and the old familiar smell of tobacco that lingered around him. Jürgen motioned the men that held him to back away and then it was just the two of them as it was always meant to be.

"Now we begin, my friend," Jürgen whispered as he began to slowly unbutton Deeks' shirt, his eyes following as his fingers progressed, licking his lips as he pulled the denim shirt open.

Deeks closed his eyes as he stood unmoving, his hands at his sides, knowing he could no longer resist, knowing he must sacrifice himself for the others, hoping if he did that Jürgen would let his family live. A shiver ran between his shoulder blades as he felt Jürgen's hands make contact with his chest and begin to move over his body.

"Take off your shirt," Jürgen said, his voice thick and low.

Deeks stood silently as the denim shirt fell behind him and he waited for what he knew was coming.

"You know I can't allow you to call me dirty names," Jürgen said, walking around him, his hands never losing contact, always stroking and Deeks began to shiver.

The first blow was hard and he felt warm blood fill his mouth and he tried to prepare for the next, determined to stay on his feet. He could barely hear the shouts of the others as they screamed at Jürgen to stop, but he knew their pleading was useless. He wasn't sure how many times he was hit, but he didn't fall, only swayed under each hit as he fought a wave of dizziness.

"Do not resist me, my friend," Jürgen whispered, his mouth pressed against his ear. "If you do everything I say, I will leave your little family alive. Do you agree?"

Deeks nodded and slowly sank to his knees in front of Jürgen, finally broken and trembling as he felt the man's hated hands closed around his throat.

...


	34. Chapter 34

**Vengeance: Chapter 34**

...

He tried to focus on the smell of the hay and the icy breath of the wind as it blew through the barn, chilling his bare back as Jürgen slowly choked him. He could hear Sheila neighing from her stall and kicking at it with her front foot like she did when she was waiting for him to open the door. He reached back in his mind for those sweet memories of riding her along the creek in the warm sunshine, trying hard to distance himself from what Jürgen was doing to him. The pain of not being able to draw air into his lungs started to darken his mind and even though he had agreed not to resist, he started to struggle against the beast in front of him, suddenly grabbing his arm and fighting to get to his feet. His broken ankle screamed with pain as he put his entire weight on it, trying to get enough leverage to push Jürgen off of him and he almost succeeded. He heard him laugh low in his throat, a familiar, threatening sound that caused him to open his eyes, knowing what was coming. The blow to the base of his spine forced him back down to his knees and Jürgen's brutal kick to his tender ribs made him collapse to the floor.

"Do not fight me, my friend," Jürgen said as he knelt over him, punching him again and again in the back until his mind fogged and he could hardly hear the curses that Joe was shouting or the tearful cries from Kensi as she called his name.

His arms were pulled roughly behind his back and he knew Jürgen had returned to his old ways, wanting to bind him tightly so he would have no chance to fight back. Jürgen pressed his knee into the cast on his broken hand and he screamed in agony, instantly sorry that he was failing to be strong in front of the people he cared about. When his hands were tied, two mercenaries lifted him to his feet and held him upright as Jürgen's hands closed over his upper arms, his thumbs pressing deeply into the muscles as he breathed against his cheek and whispered to him.

"Tell him you don't love him," Jürgen said as one of his hands moved up to stroke his throat. "Tell him he means nothing to you."

"No."

"Do you remember what I did to my father?" he asked as he angrily began to choke him again.

Deeks eyes opened and he looked into Jürgen's eyes and a deep, unsettling fear infused his whole body. The night Jürgen had described in exacting detail what he had done to his own father flashed unwanted through his mind and his broken hand began to throb at the remembered pain, his senses recalling every ounce of terror the night had brought.

"Don't. Please, don't," he pleaded, willing to do anything, even beg, to save George from that kind of grisly death.

"I'll go with you and let you do whatever you want. I won't fight you, but please, just leave these people alone." His voice was wild with desperation and Jürgen laughed.

"So this is what your so-called love looks like," Jürgen sneered as he took a step back. "You are willing to die for them?"

"Yes."

Jürgen hit him just above the eye and warm blood splattered down his chest. His knees buckled and the two mercenaries struggled to hold him up as Jürgen hit him again. Then he heard George's voice and Jürgen stopped.

"Leave him alone, you unholy bastard," George said, his voice powerful, as it boomed through the barn. "You got your answer and nothing you do to him or to us will change how we feel about each other. We're family. Don't you understand that or are you just dumb as shit? I pity you, you sick sonofabitch."

"Don't you say that," Jürgen roared, striking George viciously across the mouth.

George spit the blood back in his face and his eyes became almost black as he struggled against the ropes trying to get to him. Deeks lifted his head to look at the defiance in George's eyes and it gave him strength. He kicked Jürgen as hard as he could behind the knee, causing him to stumble and almost go down. Jürgen turned toward him in a rage and grabbed him by the throat, throwing him toward the back of the barn. He landed hard, but had no time to catch his breath as Jürgen dragged him to his feet and pushed him toward the back door, hauling him bodily out into the snow.

"Bring all of them," he shouted back at his men. "I want them to watch him die."

He didn't wait for them, dragging Deeks through the snow and then shoving him violently into one of the massive trunks of an old Cottonwood. He slumped to the ground, the rough bark scraping the skin from his chest. Jürgen jerked him up and slammed his back against the tree, holding him there as his head drooped with exhaustion. Jurgen slapped him, yelling at him to look at him, but he was barely conscious and slowly began to slide down to the ground, gasping at the new pain.

"Do you want me to do this to the woman, my friend?" Jürgen asked as he hauled his body up by the throat. "Pick one to take your place. Your new father or perhaps your brand new brother. Who do you choose?"

"No." Deeks choked out. "Just do what you came to do to me. They're not part of this. It's just you and me, you fuckin' asshole."

"You have always had a filthy mouth, my friend," Jürgen said, slapping him and pushing him toward the creek.

Deeks stumbled forward, falling often in the snow, his broken ankle barely able to support him. Jürgen kicked him whenever he fell and he heard Joe screaming at him, but the man was unrelenting, shoving him constantly toward the creek and pushing him into the trunks of the trees and holding him there while he taunted him about his family.

"What do you think your death will do to them?" he asked as Deeks leaned back against the tree, panting in pain. "Do you really think they care about you?"

Jürgen didn't wait for him to answer as he grabbed his arm and shoved him to the ground before dragging him to the edge of the creek. He cringed, waiting for another kick, but Jürgen had turned to watch the men bringing George and Joe and finally Kensi, all of whom were struggling against the men who held them. Deeks took in shallow breaths as he lay in the ice encrusted snow watching the three of them forced to their knees with pistols pointed at the backs of their heads and he couldn't stop the tears from clouding his eyes and freezing in his lashes. He slid toward unconsciousness, but fought it, wanting to see the faces of the three people he loved most in the world, one last time. He saw them staring back at him, their faces raw with emotion and fear and he wished he could comfort them. He hated causing them pain and he tried to rise, wanting to go to them, but Jürgen turned and saw him, striding back quickly and yanking him to his feet. With one motion, he threw him into the rushing creek and he went under, the icy water violently shocking his half naked body. Jürgen waded in behind him and pulled him above the surface, dragging him through the water, before finally pushing him up onto the rugged bank on the other side and pulling him across the rough ground into the center of the meadow. He dropped him there in the crusty snow, circling him as he began to shiver uncontrollably, coughing up water as he lay face down on the frozen ground.

"You will die here, my friend," He said softly. "Your little family will be watching, and when I'm done with you, I'm going to slit their throats."

"No," Deeks screamed and fought to regain his feet.

Jürgen laughed as he charged him, easily sidestepping him, and kicking his feet out from under him. He crashed to the ground, but stumbled back to his feet and limped around to face Jürgen, his eyes aflame with hate.

"You're not even human, Jürgen," he said, his voice raw in the chilling cold. "You're nothing but a stunted, vile piece of shit. You're not worthy to speak the names of those three people."

Jürgen walked slowly toward him, his face a mask of malevolence, his eyes red from the swirling wind as he stood silently in front of Deeks, who started shaking as the creek water began to freeze on his body. He staggered back as Jürgen's hand reached out and touched the hollow of his throat with his fingers. Deeks flinched as if touched by fire, but Jürgen kept moving forward, his face calm as one hand flattened against his chest while the other closed around his neck. Deeks became rigid and Jürgen pressed his body against his until they were cheek to cheek, his lips brushing against his ear.

"Don't resist me and I'll let them live," whispering out his promise as his hand moved down his body and around to his back.

Deeks nodded and closed his eyes as Jürgen took him to the ground. He sat straddling him, his hands coming to rest on either side of his face, his thumbs brushing over his cheeks before sliding slowly down to his neck. Jürgen's thumbs pressed deeply into the hollow of his throat and brilliant spots flashed behind his eyes. Then Jürgen released him and he gasped in the harsh, icy air. He heard a deep, low, almost guttural laugh as Jürgen sat back, but he couldn't bear to look at him, concentrating on taking in air while he had the chance. The shocking blow to his abdomen, left him panting and unable to catch his breath as Jürgen's hands slid up along his ribcage, his fingers finding the cracks in the old familiar way and his mind drifted back to that dark time as warm tears cut through the frost that clung to his beard.

Trying to ignore the feel of the monster's hands on his body as they constantly stroked his skin, Deeks slowly succumbed to the deepening cold, his mind and body becoming numb as Jürgen's hands finally moved up his chest and closed around his throat. His lungs filled with fire and his mind edged toward darkness as he struggled to draw breath. He could feel the ice burning into his back as his bound hands were crushed against his spine. Jurgen's knees pressed into his ribcage sending bright shards of pain coursing through his body, dulling his mind even more. Jürgen let him take in a mouthful of air occasionally, but never for long, seeming to enjoy the spark of hope each one offered him, only to take it away as he increased the pressure on his throat. Deeks felt his life slipping slowly away and he struggled briefly, but then he saw the knife and he knew his death would not be a simple one. He opened his eyes once to watch a hawk circle above them, screaming out as it searched for its prey, then he looked into Jürgen's eyes, so black and so dead, and he waited to die.

...

Joe had been transfixed by the scene in the meadow across the creek. He'd yelled out Deeks' name when he saw Jürgen take him to the ground and had fought his way to his feet, but the man holding him beat him back to his knees. Now he couldn't bear to watch and looked over at his dad. His eyes were closed and his head bowed, tears slipping down his cheeks and it almost did Joe in. Kensi had struggled violently to get to her feet, screaming Deeks name again and again, but the merc behind her finally choked her into silence and now she was just staring up at the sky, her face contorted in pain.

Joe caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and then heard the man behind him grunt before slumping to the ground. The man behind Kensi turned too late and Elan Hand slipped a knife between his ribs, letting him drop before tackling the last mercenary as he charged. Joe was quickly on his feet as was Kensi, who kicked the gun from the man's hand as Elan got him in a choke hold and then plunged the knife deep into his neck, spilling blood across his chest.

"Where the hell have you been, Elan?" Joe asked as Elan pushed the man off him and used the bloody knife to cut Joe loose.

"Sorry, Cuz," Elan said as he cut the ropes to free Kensi and George. "Had to deal with the lookout in the barn. He didn't go easily."

They all looked quickly across the creek and saw Jürgen straddling Deeks, his hands on his throat and Kensi started to run toward him, but Elan grabbed her arm and stopped her as Jim Littleshield rode out of the barn leading two horses. Elan swung smoothly into the saddle and was off toward the creek with Littleshield not far behind, their horses swiftly covering the ground in giant strides.

"We'll take care of Jürgen," George said as he mounted Honcho and reined him toward the creek. "Joe, bring as many blankets as you can find. Kensi, call for an ambulance."

"I'm not staying here, Joe. You call the ambulance," Kensi said as she started running after George.

She waded quickly across the freezing stream, but stopped in abject fear when she saw Jürgen raise a knife above his head, its blade flashing briefly in the gray light. Elan's black horse suddenly streaked behind him, a discordant blur of motion against the startling white snow, but Jürgen was slow to respond. Kensi watched as the noose of a lariat floated over his head and settled around him and then tightened as Elan raced by, yanking him off of Deeks and dragging him across the frozen ground. Elan pulled back sharply on the reins and the cutting horse did as he was trained to do, stopping instantly and keeping the rope taut as Jürgen struggled to free himself. He managed to reach his feet, but Jim Littleshield's rope settled over him from the opposite side and his horse pulled back steadily until Jurgen was held suspended between the two horses, unable to free himself from the tightening ropes and screaming epitaphs into the falling snow.

Jurgen's screams of rage spurred Kensi to move, and she scrambled up the bank and raced to get to Deeks. George was already beside him, wrapping him in his warm coat before gathering him into his arms.

"Marty." She choked out his name as she fell to her knees in the snow beside him. He was lying limply in George's arms his head cradled in one rough hand and the strong old rancher was crying, scaring her badly.

"Is he alive, Kensi?" he asked. "He's so cold."

She felt for a pulse, her hand trembling as she touched his icy skin. Then she smiled at George through her own tears and nodded, unable to speak as she caressed his cheek and kissed his cold forehead. Joe was suddenly there, quickly cutting Deeks' hands free before piling blankets on top of him and forcing them underneath him, trying to get him off the snow covered ground.

"We got you, Marty," he kept saying as he fussed over him. "You're gonna be okay."

George shifted him over into Kensi's arms and stood up. His face was eerily calm and when Joe looked up at him he was startled at how dark and deadly his eyes were.

"Dad? What are you going to do?" Joe asked warily. He had never seen that look on his father's face before and it frightened him. He stood quickly and took his arm, but George pushed him away and walked toward Honcho.

"That man almost killed him, Joe," George said, his voice raw with pent-up emotion. "He brutalized Marty and would have killed all of us. I don't intend to let him mess with my family ever again."

George mounted Honcho and turned the big horse toward Jürgen who was still struggling against the taut, unforgiving ropes that held him. He screamed irrationally at the men, calling them filthy names as his dark coat whipped around him in the bitterly cold wind. His head snapped around as George rode up, and he suddenly stopped struggling, his face taking on a feral look as he watched the rancher carefully.

"Is he dead?" Jürgen asked. When he got no response he asked again, shifting uncomfortably on his feet when he got a look at George's face, so hard and completely merciless.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"No. You didn't kill him," George said softly as he watched the man. "He survived everything you did to him. Let's see if you can do the same."

George patted Honcho's neck before giving him a kick and a rough shout of urging. The big horse leaped forward and charged full gallop straight at Jürgen. The man's face froze in complete surprise as the big horse crashed into him, his hooves cutting through his flesh as he trampled him into the ground. Jim Littleshield's big sorrel followed, splashing blood up on his white legs as he passed over him. The dark hooves of Elan's black stallion crushed one of Jürgen's hands as he rode over his broken body, the snow now messy with his blood. The men rode over him until they were satisfied he was dead, their faces grim and determined, George pulling Honcho around one last time before turning to look down at Jürgen's unrecognizable face. Jim Littleshield stopped his horse beside the body and began an old Arapaho chant. He raised his hands over his head and let out a vivid war cry of victory, the haunting sound echoing across the little valley, flushing a tree full of crows, their black bodies flashing low across the meadow.

The three men rode back to where Kensi held Deeks in her arms. Joe didn't say anything, only nodding as he stared past them at the mangled remains of their family's nightmare, lying bloody and unwanted in the open field.

Kensi didn't think she would ever look at George Atwood the same again, not that she blamed him for what they had just done. She believed it was fitting justice, but she shivered at the brutal violence of it, pulling Deeks closer as she tried to reconcile her conflicted feelings about the usually kind man. Callen had told her after meeting George for the first time, that there was more to him than met the eye, a hint of danger he kept buried deep inside. Now she knew how true that was and how much his family truly meant to him. He had wreaked a terrible vengeance on a sadistic, evil man who had terrorized all of them and nearly killed a man he had embraced as a son and she refused to judge him for it. As he knelt down next to her, his gentle side reemerged and he pulled the blankets up and tucked them more tightly around Deeks' chest, finally resting his rough hand against his cheek before looking up at her with tears in his eyes.

"I couldn't leave that man unpunished, Kensi," he said solemnly. "After watching him brutalize Marty, I couldn't let him off easy. He needed to be destroyed, to die as savagely as he lived."

Deeks began to stir in Kensi's arms and everyone focused their attention on him as he opened his eyes. His look was distant and he moaned softly, mumbling something Kensi couldn't hear and she bent her head closer as he whispered unintelligible words.

"We need to get him warm," George said and then looked to the sky as the sound of a helicopter filled the hushed air. It swept in low over the trees behind them and settled slowly down on the other end of the meadow, its blades swirling the falling snow and obscuring the occupants as they dropped quickly to the ground and ran toward them.

"It's Callen and Sam," Kensi shouted above the sound, smiling with welcomed relief.

She saw them pause by Jurgen's remains and look at each other before glancing over and then saw them start to run again. The panic on their faces made her put her hand out, trying to still their fear and let them know that Deeks was still alive. Sam dropped to his knees next to George and instantly reached out to touch Deeks, his face turbulent with anger and concern. Callen's anxiety was plain to see as he looked around at all of them, assessing the obvious signs of a terrifying afternoon, his eyes finally coming to rest on Deeks' battered face.

"The paramedics are right behind us," he said, noting the continued silence of the group.

He realized they were all in various stages of shock and he knew he needed to take charge. He yelled for the medics, physically having to move George out of the way as the men lifted Deeks onto a stretcher. He was shivering badly as they secured him, but as they started to move he woke, his eyes wild with panic and he began to fight them.

"Deeks, stop," Sam said firmly and grabbed his good hand and gripped it tightly, forcing him to look at him. "You're safe. You're family's safe and Jürgen is dead. Now you need to let us help you, okay?"

"Sam?" he called out weakly. "Where's George? Oh God, where's Kens? Joe?"

He kept calling out their names and each one came to him so he would know they were okay, but he couldn't seem to focus and wouldn't calm down, struggling and fighting until one of the medics finally gave him a sedative just so they could get him on the chopper. Kensi went with him, and Joe needed stitches so he joined them, but George refused any treatment, telling Callen he would wait for the sheriff, knowing he would need to explain the bloody remains in his neighbor's field.

Callen looked over at the three men left standing solemnly together, watching the helicopter fly out over the ranch and head for Laramie. He noticed the blood and pieces of flesh that clung to the legs and hooves of all three horses and he felt a hard chill shiver through him. Sam had walked over to what was left of Jürgen and then looked back at him, his expression showing how stunned he was by what the men had done.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Callen asked as he faced the three men.

"He terrorized our family and we made him pay for it, just like you would have done," George answered.

The three men walked quietly away in the fading light, leading their horses through the creek water, cleansing them all of the sin of violence that had marred the day.

...


	35. Chapter 35

**Vengeance: Chapter 35**

...

"It was brutal, Hetty," Callen said quietly into his phone as the flashing lights of the sheriff's car finally disappeared into the snowy night. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before."

"I spoke with State Attorney General Phillips and I made him aware of all the Federal charges against Jürgen," she said. "And he has agreed there will be no charges filed in this case."

"The local sheriff considered it justifiable homicide," Callen responded. "He was friends with the couple that was murdered and he knows George by reputation. He said they were only defending themselves."

"How are they?" she asked.

"Elan told me he actually flashed back to his time in Afghanistan," Callen said. "They had just ridden back from recon and he was alerted by the dogs barking in the house. He made his uncle wait while he scoped out the barn and then he heard the horses and he knew something was wrong. He skirted the fence line until he got to the barn and saw the guard, and then he took him out after a pretty bruising knife fight. When he saw George and Joe and Kensi on their knees with guns to their heads, he said he had never felt that level of anger before, even in firefights as an Army Ranger. He told me his mind went on automatic and he took down all three mercs without a second thought. He was defending his family, Hetty, and the sheriff understood that. I think what happened after that was no different."

"And Jim Littleshield?" she asked.

"Jim hasn't spoken to anyone but Elan since it happened," Callen told her. "Elan's worried about him. Says he sees what happened as a spiritual cleansing, but thinks Jürgen's spirit might still be around. Elan rolled his eyes at that, but he said his uncle believes it."

"How's George?" she asked softly.

"He's desperate to see Deeks," Callen answered. "But he wanted to settle the horses down before we head for the hospital. He's a tough old guy, Hetty. He has no regrets."

"No, he wouldn't," she said firmly. "I knew when I first met him that he had deep feelings for Mr. Deeks and that he would do anything to protect him. It's why I sent him to Wyoming after your fight with him."

"Have you heard anything from the hospital?" Callen asked tentatively as Sam and Elan joined him by the fire.

"Kensi says he's in deep shock and suffering from hypothermia," Hetty said, her voice wavering as she spoke. "She said he was quite confused when they got him to the hospital and it scared her that he didn't seem to recognize her, but the doctor told her that confusion was common with mild hypothermia. His core temperature had dropped to ninety-two and they're working to warm him up. There was some slight bruising to his vocal cords and his hand was broken again, along with a couple of ribs."

"That bastard almost killed him," Callen whispered. "He got past us Hetty, and I'm not sure how, but it was my job to make sure that didn't happen."

"Jürgen was a top Stasi agent with years of training, Mr. Callen," Hetty said kindly. "But it was Faolan Boyle who discovered where we were hiding Mr. Deeks. Now, he is the one trying to hide."

"Did Eric find him?" Callen asked sharply.

"He'll be arrested in Boston within the hour," Hetty said. "Mr. Beale is over the moon, shall we say. With a tip from Tina Nguyen at the FBI, he was able to backtrack him and drain his bank accounts and cut off all his credit cards. It forced him to go to a cousin in Boston for help and that's where he was found, thanks to Nell's research."

"Then it's finished," Callen said wearily.

"Yes, Mr. Callen. The whole wretched mess is done and Mr. Deeks is finally safe," Hetty said with a touch of vinegar in her voice. Callen knew how upset she had been when they discovered Jürgen was at the ranch and he knew the debrief on the operation would be difficult for both of them. They didn't like making mistakes, especially one that almost cost the lives of people they both cared about.

"I'll keep you posted on Deeks," Callen said.

"No need, Mr. Callen," she answered. "I'm on my way to Laramie right now. Hopefully the weather won't interfere."

Callen turned to the others when the call ended, noticing how exhausted they both looked. He quickly evaluated Elan Hand, noticing how he favored one side as he settled into the chair by the fire. They all owed so much to the man that Callen didn't think a simple thank you would cover it, although he couldn't think what else to say.

"Something on your mind?" Elan asked as he stared into the fire. "You've been staring at me for the last couple of minutes. I can feel it."

"Is that one of those indian things?" Sam asked with a smile. "Being able to tell when someone's watching you?"

"That's an Army Ranger thing and a couple of tours in country," Elan said, his eyes shifting over to Sam.

"I'm impressed," Callen answered. "Taking down four men with only a knife has me wondering if you might be interested in becoming a Federal agent. You might even be able to take Sam, here."

"Or Kensi," Elan said with a laugh that disappeared almost as soon as he spoke.

"How bad are the ribs?" Sam asked knowingly.

"No cracks," Elan said, looking uncomfortable with their scrutiny.

The eerie cry of a coyote interrupted their conversation and caused Sam to get up and go to the kitchen window, the other two quickly followed.

"What the hell was that?" Callen asked.

"Coyotes," Elan said as he walked past Sam and out onto the back porch.

The three men grabbed jackets before following the sound, drawn by the haunting, high-pitched howls. They struggled across the corral toward the barn, which was dimly lit, the open door glowing through the heavily falling snow. They saw only curious horses staring back at them when they entered, until all their heads turned at another series of yips coming from somewhere behind the barn. The back door was open and they could barely see the lone figure leaning against the massive trunk of a Cottonwood. George moved silently toward the creek and the three men followed as the otherworldly barks and howls of fighting coyotes hung in the bitterly cold air like disembodied spirits. The men stopped when they heard the rushing creek, the snow crunching under their feet as they stood and watched the large pack circling and tumbling over one another, their snarls resonating in the crisp air. The dark shapes of the animals were a blur behind the falling flakes of snow as they tore and fought over the remains of Wilhelm Jürgen, scattering what was left of him across the bleak field.

"By the time the coroner got here it was dark and snowing. Tough place to access, so they left his body for the morning," George said softly. "Seems right that there'll be nothing left of him by then."

"The coyotes are helping us," Jim Littleshield said from behind them. "When they are done there will be no reason for that man's spirit to stay here and it will leave this place."

The men stood watching and shivering in the cold until one by one they turned back to the comfort and warmth of the barn, their own thoughts kept private about what they had just witnessed.

...

...

She started awake for some reason and instantly glanced toward the bed, searching for his face in the darkened room, hoping he would speak and that the turmoil in his pale blue eyes had lessened since yesterday. She stood and moved silently to the side of the bed as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The colored lights from the various monitors gave her a glimmer of his shadowy form and she could see a tiny glint in his open eyes. She took his hand and squeezed it gently, but he did not respond in kind and her heart dropped and began to flutter with worry. His silence kept her feeling unsettled, constantly restless and searching for answers to his continued refusal to say anything to anyone or to see anyone but her. The doctor had told her the swelling of his vocal cords had decreased and that he should be able to talk, but he didn't, not even to ask for pain medication if he needed it. Joe had pushed his way in that morning, but Deeks wouldn't even look at him, turning his face to the wall while Joe pleaded with him to at least see George. His only response had been to slowly shake his head, leaving Joe distraught and slightly angry, confused by the rejection now that he was finally safe.

George remained close by, saddened but unwilling to leave the hospital, getting updates from Kensi and the doctors as often as he could. He would sneak into his room at night when he was asleep and sit with him until he heard him stir, then leave before he was fully awake. Kensi saw the toll Deeks' rejection was taking on him, but he never seemed to get angry like Joe and Sam had on occasion. Callen often sat with him in the waiting room at odd hours in the early morning, sometimes talking, but other times simply keeping each other company, not feeling the need to say anything. She thought Callen got more comfort from their time together than George, his face softening whenever George greeted him with a quick squeeze of his shoulder or the back of his neck. After three days, Callen and Sam were ordered back to Los Angeles and had come by the hospital to say goodbye. Callen was introduced to George's signature hug, his surprise at the gesture apparent in his eyes, along with a sudden flood of emotion he wasn't quite able to hide. Hetty stayed, having flown in the day after Deeks had been admitted. She had tried to speak with him that first day, but he had just stared at her without recognition, scaring all of them. Now she usually came by around dinnertime, stepping into his room to say a few words or tell him a short story about her many travels, before taking George out to dinner. He never said a word to her, but he didn't turn away.

As the room grew progressively lighter she went to the window, watching the large flakes of snow continue to fall. She was suddenly shaken by the memory of seeing him dragged across the snow soddened field and then watching as he shivered uncontrollably in her arms after Jürgen was dead. She turned to look back at him and was surprised to see him reach out his hand to her. Their fingers intertwined and he looked down sadly at them, his brow creased as he chewed his bottom lip.

"I want to go home," He whispered. He looked up and there were tears in his eyes. "I can't stand to look at the snow anymore. Please help me get home, Kens."

It was the first time he had spoken in almost five days.

"Let me ask the doctors when they're willing to release you," she said hurriedly, heading for the door. "Then I'll tell George and he can make arrangements to get you back to the ranch."

"No, Kens," he said, shaking his head. "I want to go home to LA."

She was stunned.

"Are you sure?" She came back and took his hand and he nodded.

"I can't stay here anymore," he said. "I don't belong here."

"Don't say that Marty," she pleaded. "They're your family."

"No they're not," he replied. "Not anymore."

"I don't understand," she said. "George has been here every day, waiting to talk to you, waiting to take you home to the ranch."

"That's not my home, Kens," he said sadly. "I let Jürgen take that away from me. Don't you understand Kens? He won."

She talked with him until he turned his face away from her. He didn't explain himself further and she felt nothing but sorrow as she walked out of his room to find George standing against the wall with tears in his eyes.

"You heard," she said quietly.

"I thought once that monster was dead he would be free," George said. "Now, I've lost him anyway."

She reached for his arm, but he made no acknowledgement of her, simply turning and walking slowly toward the elevators. She had no idea what to do, so she called Hetty, needing her council and her unbelievable strength. While she waited for her to come she saw the elevator doors open and watched as Joe Atwood hesitated before getting off.

"Is it true?" His voice was thick and she could see the deep emotions he was dealing with. She had expected him to be angry and to charge into Deeks' room yelling and demanding an explanation, but he did none of those things. He slumped into a chair and looked completely defeated.

"He's still in shock, Joe," she said, trying her best to comfort him. "Just give him time. He'll come around."

"Dad's devastated," Joe said.

They sat quietly together until Hetty came and when she heard what Deeks had said she looked shaken, but took a deep breath and went into his room.

"Good morning, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said and was surprised to see a slight smile in response.

"Hetty," he said. "You tell good stories."

"All true, Mr. Deeks," she replied as she moved closer to the bed. "I understand you are coming back to LA to continue your recovery."

"Hetty, do you want me back?" His eyes were wide, full of doubt and fear of rejection.

"Of course I do, Mr. Deeks. We all do," she said in amazement. "Why would you even ask me that question?"

"Because I'm not the same, Hetty," he said and looked over at the window. "I really don't know who I am anymore."

"Have you talked to Nate?" she asked gently as she rested her hand on his arm.

"I haven't wanted to talk to anyone until today," he answered. "The snow made me realize I need to get away from here. I need to get back to my real life, Hetty, not some made up fairy tale where I'm surrounded by a loving family."

"You sound bitter," she said.

"I've been living in a dream world, Hetty," he answered. "Jürgen made me see that. They can't love me, now. Not after what I did."

"What did you do, Marty?" she asked softly and he turned to stare at her when she used his first name.

"I brought hell down on all of them," he said, his voice sounded strangled as he pushed out the words. "They were almost killed because of me and they didn't deserve that."

"You don't have to protect them now," Hetty said gently. "Jürgen is dead."

"I can't give them anything, Hetty," he said, pleading for her to understand. "I have nothing left."

She patted his hand as the tears he'd been struggling to hold back finally streamed from his eyes. She let him collect himself and then she smiled gently at him before turning to leave.

"Thank the team for finding me," he said.

"Tell them when you get back," she said. "They deserve to hear that from you personally."

She left him there and went out to the waiting room to see Kensi and Joe. She told them what Deeks had said and Joe sat silently through it all. When she was finished he put his hands over his face and shook his head.

"If he wasn't so beat up already, I'd knock the shit out of him," he said sadly. "Tell him he's an idiot when he's feeling better, will you Kensi?"

Then he stood up and walked away.

...

...

The day he got the cast off of his hand he went home and got his surf board and headed for Surfrider Beach. He knew he wasn't a hundred percent yet, but he didn't care, he needed to be out in the ocean, he needed it to heal him as it always had before. He sounded desperate even to himself as he thought about it. He and Kensi still had arguments about his health, about his attitude and about his long bouts of silence. She had tried her best during the whole time and he knew he wasn't good company, but he didn't care, not anymore.

His return to LA had been rough and he had spent more time in the hospital, until he signed himself out over everyone's objections, especially Kensi's. He kept to himself most days, wandering along the beaches, until his mind started drawing him back to where he didn't want it to go. Then he would start running, trying to escape the terrible memories until he collapsed one day and had to be hospitalized again, the doctors recommending a psych evaluation that had him screaming and cursing at them. Sam had been the one to calm him down that time, holding his arms tight to his body and hugging him while talking to him quietly until the doctor was able to sedate him. Sam was there when he woke up and so was Nate, but their talks didn't seem to help much and Nate finally put him on anti-depressants. He'd stopped taking those the second week and had refused Hetty's order to resume his sessions with Nate, angering her to the point that she'd threatened to personally throttle him. That had gotten a laugh out of him until he looked to see she was deadly serious and saw that all three of his teammates were shaking their heads at him.

Callen was the only one who seemed to understand and had taken it upon himself to drive him to the beach every morning. They didn't say much to each other, but Deeks had appreciated it more than he was able to express and knowing he didn't really have to made the mornings special for him. Callen had thrown his arm across his shoulders one morning as they walked along the edge of the fading waves, and it had touched him, causing a flood of emotion he didn't understand. He'd felt his heart begin to race and he had trouble catching his breath, scaring Callen badly. He had made him sit down then and they had talked, their conversation eventually turning to what had happened at the ranch. He'd told Callen he didn't remember much after being dragged through the creek, only recalling a hawk circling above him and how incredibly cold he had been. When Callen asked him if he knew how Jürgen had died, he had shaken his head no and asked him to tell him. When asked if he was sure, he nodded, so Callen told him everything, watching him closely as he did and seeing the shock settle deep down behind his eyes. When he was finished, Deeks got up and walked into the surf and vomited up his breakfast, then sank to his knees as the surf churned around him. Callen pulled him to his feet and he didn't remember anything until Callen knocked on Kensi's door and ushered him inside. She had held him as he shivered uncontrollably, begging her to stay with him whenever she tried to get up. She had held him in her arms until the following morning, when he woke up and apologized, telling her he didn't know why Jürgen's gruesome death had affected him so much.

That had been two days ago and now he was paddling out beyond the break, needing desperately to experience the solace he had always found there. As he waited for a wave, he stared down at his right hand, so pale against the black of his wetsuit and he began to shiver. Wave after wave passed unridden beneath him as he stared at his hand, the memories assailing him as each wave swelled beneath him, lifting him briefly before dropping him into a trough and moving on toward shore. He was suddenly freezing cold and had to grip the edges of the board as flashes of memory assaulted him, obliterating the beauty of the day and darkening his vision until all he could see was Jürgen's face as the haunting smell of tobacco filled his senses. Another surfer saw him struggling and asked if he was okay, jarring him out of the flashback. He nodded to the young kid and slowly started to paddle in, exhausted and dazed by the experience.

When he reached shore he dropped to his knees in the warm sand and tried to control his emotions.

"Callen said you might be here." The familiar voice surprised him and he looked up as Joe Atwood knelt down in front of him.

"Joe." Deeks managed to say before collapsing onto his towel.

"Marty, what the hell is wrong," Joe's voice sounded a long way off and Deeks reached out his hand, trying to connect himself to someone real. Joe's firm grip steadied him and he struggled back to his knees before realizing Joe was holding his right hand and it jolted him.

"Hold on to me, Joe," he gasped.

"I got you, brother," he answered, sending Deeks through another wave of emotion.

"You don't have to call me that anymore," he said as he wrapped his arms around his knees, still feeling cold.

"I see you're still a dumbass," Joe said as he took off his jacket and threw it over Deeks' back, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him close to try and warm him. They sat quietly until Deeks finally stopped shaking.

"Thanks, Joe," he choked out. "I kinda lost it out there."

"Come on, man. Let's go get coffee," Joe said as he helped him to his feet.

"Sounds good," Deeks said with a slightly crooked grin.

"I see your hair's back to normal," Joe said lightly as Deeks changed out of his wetsuit.

"I wish the rest of me was," he answered sadly.

"Well, the dumbass part is still there," Joe said with a laugh.

"Why did you come here, Joe?" Deeks asked.

"I'll tell you over coffee, man," Joe answered. "You need to warm up. Your puny body is covered in goosebumps."

The two men rode in silence as Joe drove to a small cafe overlooking the beach in Malibu. Joe noticed he was still shivering when they got out of the car and insisted he put on his jacket, eliciting a small smile that softened his troubled features. They took a table by the window in the sun and Joe ordered, glancing over at Deeks as he stared out the window at the incoming waves.

"How's the hand?" Joe asked.

"Okay, I guess," Deeks answered, frowning as he stared down at it. "I'm supposed to start physical therapy next week."

"And the ankle?" Joe asked as the coffees arrived.

"Weak," he said, wrapping both hands around the large mug of coffee and savoring the warmth as he drank.

"Can you use any physical therapist?" Joe asked.

"I guess, if Hetty approves," He answered as he stared into his coffee.

"Diane is pretty good, you know," Joe said with a smile. "And she'll still be practicing for a few more months."

"What do you mean? Is she quitting?" Deeks asked quizzically.

"She doesn't want to being doing physical therapy when she's six months pregnant," Joe said with a wide smile.

"Are you kidding me, buddy?" Deeks gasped in surprise, his face lighting up with happiness. "You're gonna be a dad?"

"And you're going to be an uncle," Joe said pointedly.

"Joe, don't," Deeks said quickly.

"Shut up, Marty," Joe said. "It's going to be a boy and we're naming him Christopher Martin Atwood after my brothers. He's going to need an uncle and you're the only brother I've got left."

"I don't know what to say," Deeks said quietly.

"Well, Uncle Marty, most people say congratulations," Joe laughed.

Deeks suddenly laughed and stood up and grabbed Joe, pulling him to his feet and hugging him as hard as he could.

...


	36. Chapter 36

**Vengeance: Chapter 36**

...

Hetty had finally allowed him to come in a couple of days a week on limited desk duty and that's where she found him, sitting quietly, fiddling with a photograph. She spoke his name three times before he looked up at her and she could see the shimmer of tears in his eyes. He laid the photo down, but his hand covered it as she came closer and she smiled softly at him, knowing what the photo must mean to him and hoping it might be the breakthrough he needed.

"I see you found the picture of you and George," she said kindly. "We kept it on your desk after we thought we'd lost you. Nell had packed it away and found it yesterday when she was taking your things out of storage. It was a comfort to us to see you so happy."

"I've been so caught up in my own troubles that I forgot how hard it must have been on all of you," Deeks said quietly. "Kensi has shared some of what she went through, but I think she's holding back, afraid it might be too much for me to handle."

"None of us want to burden you more than you already are, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said kindly.

"I'm a pain in the ass, Hetty," he said bitterly.

"Some would say that's always been the case, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said, her eyes sparkling as she smirked at him.

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement as he ran his hand once again over the photo.

"Have you talked to him since I've been back?" he asked, staring at the picture.

"He calls me every other day asking about you," Hetty answered.

"Really?" The longing on his face and the vague hint of surprise in his voice gave her hope.

"Why does that surprise you, Mr. Deeks?" she asked. "His feelings for you haven't changed."

"How can that be true, Hetty?" He asked as he ran his hand through his long, unruly hair, uncut since his return.

She waited as a wave of emotion played out across his face. She could see he was struggling with his feelings, wanting to believe the man still cared for him, but unwilling to face the rejection he was so sure had to be there.

"He fought for you. He did what he had to do to free you from that bastard, Mr. Deeks," she said, her anger at him showing itself in spite of her attempt to control it. "You were the one who pushed him away when all he wanted to do was comfort you. You've hurt him badly, Marty and he doesn't deserve it."

Deeks looked stricken when she finished. He stood up quickly and had to steady himself as his emotions raged.

"He trampled a man to death because of me, Hetty," he choked out. "I know what it does to you to take a man's life no matter how much of a monster they are. It changes you."

"And you don't want him to change," she said knowingly.

He paused, trying to catch his breath and she waited, knowing there was more that he wanted and needed to say. She could see the torment her words had caused him, but she knew he needed to face what he had done and recognize that he could still fix things with George.

"How can he still want me as a son after what happened in that barn?" He whispered. "George is a strong man Hetty, or he wouldn't have been able to do what he did. He saw how weak I was in that barn. He saw what I let Jurgen do to me. Jürgen understood that a father can't accept weakness in a son. Mine couldn't. It's what he called me every time he beat the shit out of me."

"Why didn't you fight Jürgen in that barn, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty pushed.

"I couldn't," he stammered.

"Why?"

"I wasn't strong enough, Hetty," he answered dejectedly. "I couldn't help them."

"But, you did, Marty," she said calmly. "You knew what Jürgen was capable of and you knew he would torture and kill every single one of them if you didn't do what he wanted."

Deeks nodded slowly, his hands tangled in his hair as tears started in his eyes. He began to shake his head back and forth as the dark memories washed over him. Hetty saw Sam and Callen walk in and then Kensi, and she put her hand out to stop them from interrupting. They stood silently out of sight, listening as Hetty continued to talk.

"You sacrificed yourself so Jürgen would leave them alone, didn't you Mr. Deeks?" Her voice was soft and the cadence slow and mesmerizing and she saw him start to tremble.

"I surrendered, Hetty."

"You were trying to protect the people you loved," she said gently.

"He wanted me to tell George I didn't love him," he said, his voice choked with tears.

"What did you say?"

"No. I said no." He picked up the photo then and stared at it, rubbing his thumb across the image and then looking up at her as his tears fell.

"He was going to slit their throats," he whispered.

"And you couldn't let that happen," she said softly, reaching out to grip his arm.

"I wasn't worth their lives," he said as he rose from his chair, turning to leave, but stumbling back as he saw Callen and Sam. When he looked at Kensi, he saw she was crying and he seemed crushed by that.

"Not one of them thought that Deeks," Callen said firmly. "And they don't regret what they did."

"We should have fought harder for you, Marty," Kensi said through her tears. "We shouldn't have let him do that to you."

"Kensi, no. Please." Deeks moved toward her as she started to sob. "Don't say that."

He wrapped her in his arms and held her as she cried into his chest. He gently stroked her hair and tried to calm her, but her anguish was unrelenting and it was all he could do to keep her on her feet.

"As you can see, Mr. Deeks, you're not the only one still in pain over what happened that day," Hetty said.

"We're all trying to deal with what we let that man do to you, Deeks," Sam said.

"We made mistakes and it almost cost you your life," Callen said, his voice raw and rough as he struggled with his own feelings of guilt.

"But, you came for me in South Africa," Deeks said. "You saved my life."

"And then we let him get to you again, Deeks," Callen said loudly, his eyes stormy with anger. "Doesn't that piss you off?"

"I don't blame any of you," he said numbly. "I knew he would come and I should have left the ranch."

"And go where?" Sam demanded in exasperation. "He was already on his way there, Deeks and you know what he would have done to your family if you hadn't been there."

"You saved their lives, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said. "What you see as weakness, your family saw as strength and as incredibly brave. We all do."

"You're being too hard on yourself again," Sam said. "Don't do this, Deeks. Don't push your friends and family away. You did the only thing you could to give them a chance to survive. He gave you no choice."

"He's dead, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said softly. "You're the one who's still alive, so live, Mr. Deeks. Live."

Deeks nodded silently and began to brush Kensi's hair out of her face and wipe her tears away with his thumbs, smiling softly at her as she slowly gained control of herself. When she smiled back, he let her go and went back to his desk and picked up the photograph and put it in his pocket.

"I never really thanked you all for coming to find me," he said quietly, looking at each one in turn. "Thank you."

He kept his head down as he walked toward the door and only paused when Hetty spoke.

"Call him, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said quietly. "He's waiting."

He nodded solemnly before walking out, leaving them all wondering if they had gotten through to him at all.

...

...

Kensi found him sleeping on her couch when she got home, and even though she knew he would be there, the sight of him never failed to comfort her. He fell asleep so easily now, although it never lasted long, his nightmares coming two or three times a night. He seemed exhausted most of the time and she didn't know if it was because he was fighting so hard to distance himself from his memories or because his wounds hadn't quite healed, thinking it was probably both. He never wanted to talk about the pain, although she was convinced he still suffered from the terrible beatings he'd endured and he continued to have trouble staying on his feet for any length of time. He had started going to physical therapy with Diane Atwood and it seemed to be helping, but she thought the company had something to do with that. Diane was so kind and easy going and she never pushed him to talk about anything too deep, preferring to let him relax completely during their time together. He always seemed happier when he got back from a session with her, calling himself Uncle Marty, talking about the coming baby and leading to some of the old banter they used to enjoy.

She knew today had been hard on him and silently chastised herself for breaking down, sorry she had burdened him with her own guilt about that horrific day. She sat down next to him and couldn't stop herself from running her hands up into the hair on the back of his neck. She felt him stir under her hand and she pulled it away, not wanting to wake him, but she hadn't been able to keep her hands off of him since he'd been home. She'd thought she had lost him, that he was gone from her life forever, so the need to touch him, to make sure he was really here, back in her life, was something she just couldn't help doing.

"That felt nice," he mumbled against the sofa pillow.

"Just didn't want you drooling all over my pillow," she said lightly as he turned slowly over onto his back.

He punched the pillow up under his head and stared up at her, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He looked like his old self and she wondered if today's conversation had helped him come to terms with at least some of the things bothering him.

"I tend to drool whenever you're this close to me," he said with a small, crooked grin.

His face grew serious as his hand moved up her thigh, his eyes following its progress. He glanced quickly at her, his eyes a smoky blue-gray color as his hand slipped up under her shirt and rested lightly on her ribs. They hadn't made love very often since he'd come back to LA and his sensitive touch now took her breath away. She waited, trembling slightly with anticipation, wanting him so badly but afraid to rush him. He must have sensed that, and smiled gently as his hands moved up toward her breasts. She leaned down and kissed him softly on the mouth, her fingers entangling themselves in his tousled hair, pulling him closer as he responded, his lips moving over hers with a sense of urgency and need. She sat back and looked down at him and slowly began to unbutton her shirt, a seductive smile spreading across her face as she watched his eyes grow darker. He pushed the shirt off of her shoulders and down behind her, his eyes roaming over her body as his fingers brushed the tops of her breasts. She reached back and quickly released her bra, letting it fall so his hands could caress her. She had missed his touch and closed her eyes as his thumbs brushed back and forth across her nipples until she was quivering with excitement, but then he dropped his hands to her thighs and she looked quickly at him, worried that something was wrong, but he was smiling at her.

"I need more room to properly explore your amazingly beautiful body," he said, a smile lighting up his face.

She stood and pulled him up until he was standing so close to her she could feel his breath warm her face. He gently slid his hands lightly up her arms and into her hair. He stepped even closer and nuzzled beneath her ear, his soft lips sending ripples of pleasure all along her spine, causing her body to pulse with excitement. She wanted him to set the pace he was comfortable with, but her need for him was crying out silently inside and she began to breathe heavily as he continued to lay kisses along the top of her shoulder as his hand fondled her bare breast and hers ran slowly over the taut muscles of his back.

"God, Marty," she whispered.

He stepped slightly back from her and his eyes held such deep emotion that her breath caught and she held it, waiting to see what he would say. When he didn't speak, she took his hand and led him through to the bedroom. As they reached the bed, he came up close behind her and wrapped his arms around her body, taking her warm breasts in his hands and softly kissing the base of her neck. Her body melted into his chest as his right hand moved slowly down to the top of her jeans and began to unzip them. His fingers searched lower and lower until she quivered with want and began to pant as they slipped into the wetness he had caused. She began to move against him then and she could hear his breathing quicken as her own voice moaned low and urgently as his fingers moved within her. He slowly pulled her down onto the bed and curled his body around her, his fingers constantly moving, sending her almost over the edge. Suddenly he stood and stripped off her remaining clothes and started on his own, but she smiled and reached for him, pulling him back down beside her so she could unbutton his shirt slowly. The look on his face let her know he would indulge her need to slowly reveal what she so obviously desired and a smile softened his features as he watched her work her way down. She opened his shirt and saw the pale, ghosted marks from the beating he had suffered and she felt tears sting her eyes and a small whimper escaped. He shushed her and quickly closed the space between them, pressing his body into her and holding her as she shuddered at the memories.

"I hated myself so much that day," she said against his chest.

"Don't say that." His voice was deep and she felt his heart beating widely in his chest.

"It's the truth," she said, leaning back so she could look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said and kissed her gently. "I couldn't stand the thought of him touching you. I would have done anything to prevent that."

"But I had to watch what he did to you and I couldn't do anything about it and it nearly killed me," she was crying by the time she finished. "Do you know what that did to me? All I could do was scream for him to stop, but he wouldn't."

"I know, Kens, and I'm so sorry I hurt you," he said as his arms tightened around her.

"You didn't, Marty, he did," she said. "Don't make it your fault."

She brought her hands up and stroked his cheek, kissing him deeply, before pushing him down on his back and curling up against his chest. They held each other until she felt him tense and she rose up on her elbow to look down at him.

"What?" she asked, watching him closely as his eyes became distant.

"It's like I have a war going on inside my head," he said quietly. "I knew I had to let him take me. I knew it was my only choice, but I was afraid, Kens. I knew what he was going to do and I was terrified. It took all I had to walk in that barn, to see him again, knowing he was going to touch me again, knowing exactly what he was going to do. He was going to kill me, Kens and I was resigned to that. I was ready to let him do whatever sick thing he wanted if it meant all of you might survive. I had to believe you would. But, I still hear his voice taunting me and it sounds just like my own father, Kens, laughing at me and calling me worthless and weak and I can't get either one of their voices out of my head."

She took his right hand in hers and brought it to her lips, kissing his fingers as he watched her, his eyes bright with tears. He covered his eyes with his arm and she could feel him shaking as he fought for control, all thoughts of making love gone from both of their minds.

"Kens, did your father always forgive you if you messed up?" His question caught her off guard and she hesitated before answering. He sounded like a little boy and she took his arm away from his eyes, making him look at her when she answered.

"If I got into trouble or disobeyed him, there were always consequences," she began softly. "My Dad was big on discipline and I would get a little wild sometimes."

"Always the badass, yeah?" he said quietly.

"I could make my Dad pretty angry," she said. "But his anger never lasted long. Once I apologized he would hug me and forget about it. He never held a grudge."

"You were lucky, Kens," Deeks said. "I have no concept of a father like that. If I screwed up, which according to him was all the time, my Dad never let me forget it."

"Is that why you assume George will reject you?" she asked. "You think he blames you for what happened?"

He sat up on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair and down his face and then got up and walked back into the living room. Kensi quickly pulled on some sweats and followed him out, finding him standing in the kitchen, staring out the window.

"Jürgen made me doubt him, Kens," he said sadly. "I don't know why I believed anything he said, but he beat it in to me just like my Dad used to do. I told him George was a good man and it made him so angry that he started hitting me over and over, trying to make me take it back. He wanted me to hate him, Kens. I don't know why it was so important to him, but he wanted me to doubt that George could really love me."

"Do you doubt that he ever loved you, Deeks?" she asked, pulling him around to face her. "Because I don't. I could see it on his face every time he talked about you."

"He had to kill a man because of me, Kens," Deeks said, his voice breaking as his hands formed into tight fists. "A man I brought there. How can I look him in the eye after that?"

"He didn't have to kill him, Deeks," Kensi said softly. "He made that decision after watching what Jürgen did to you. He couldn't let him go. He wanted him dead and he wanted him to suffer."

Deeks stared at her for the longest time before saying anything and then it was heartbreaking.

"He must be sorry he ever met me," he said, not bothering to stop the tears that fell slowly down his cheeks.

"Don't say that," she pleaded, seeing the anguish all over his face. She took him in her arms as he began to shake, finally sliding down to the floor together. He buried his head in her shoulder, moaning softly as she held him.

"I love him, Kens," he whispered. "He's the kind of dad I fantasized about having after my father went to prison."

"You need to talk to him, Marty," she said, her hands moving in slow circles over his back.

"I don't know if I can face him, Kens," he said, finally pulling away from her and leaning back against the cabinets, staring out into space.

"You're assuming he's going to reject you, aren't you," she said and when he nodded, she shook her head. "Why do you think he blames you?"

"I don't know," he answered, turning to her with a lost look on his face.

"You know better than to make assumptions about people, Deeks," she said firmly. "You have to give him a chance. Doesn't he deserve that much from you?"

He looked at her for the longest time before nodding slowly. He reached out for her then and touched her cheek, pulling her into a gentle hug and she settled against his chest, listening to his softly beating heart as they held each other.

...


	37. Chapter 37

**Vengeance: Chapter 37**

...

Nell and Eric stood nervously in front of Hetty's desk as she calmly poured herself a cup of tea, her features schooled to passivity even though both techs knew she was furious. Nell knew Eric would break before she would, so she stepped into the breach to take the brunt of Hetty's displeasure and she felt surprisingly unafraid.

"Isn't that money considered ill-gotten gains, Hetty?" Nell asked innocently.

Hetty raised her eyes to meet hers and scrutinized her before shaking her head suddenly in amusement.

"If you were a man, Miss Jones, one might say 'you've got balls'," Hetty said.

"I have..." Eric stopped, his face flooding with color as questioning looks from both women caused him to stammer to a halt.

"Lucky for you two, Director Vance is in a generous mood these days," Hetty said. "He's been practically giddy since the mole in his office was sentenced to a Federal prison as a traitor."

"Hetty, Deeks would have been killed if those two little boys and the people in that town hadn't helped him," Nell said calmly, knowing that Hetty felt the same.

"I agree with you, Nell, but you should have come to me first, before siphoning off that much money from Faolan Boyle's bank accounts," Hetty said with exasperation. "I thought Director Vance was going to have a coronary when he found out. Do you know how long I was on the phone with him before he agreed to your idea?"

"Fifty-four minutes," Eric said quietly, sensing the tide had turned in their favor.

"Fortunately, SecNav approved your little scheme as well," she scolded, "Or you might be following Granger's mole into the Federal prison system. You should be thankful he agreed that the townspeople's courageous actions led to the recovery of a Federal operative and ultimately to the deaths of one traitor and two international fugitives."

Eric looked slightly green when she mentioned prison, swallowing hard as Nell linked her arm with his.

"You'll be happy to know that Mack has informed the elders of Ga-Manyapje," Hetty said. "And after a little confusion over the size of the gift, they have invited us to join them in a celebration."

"Who will be going, Hetty?" Nell asked.

"I will be joining the team for the trip, but I'm afraid you two are grounded," Hetty said firmly. "Next time, talk to me before appropriating a hundred thousand dollars that doesn't belong to you."

"Small price to pay for getting Deeks back though, don't you think, Hetty?" Eric boldly asked.

"Well said, Mr. Beale," Hetty answered as she headed for the bullpen to tell the team to cancel plans for the coming weekend.

...

...

Hetty's news was echoing in his head as he numbly walked away from the bullpen and headed for the locker room. He thought he'd heard Kensi say his name, but the sound of her voice and the words Hetty had just spoken were being drown out by memories of his own screams and he knew he was very close to collapsing. He was thankful he made it inside the locker room before his legs gave out. His hands shook as he tried to grip the edge of one of the white porcelain sinks that appeared to be vibrating as he stared down at it. His vision narrowed as a black fog closed in around him and he pushed himself back from the sink and tried to make it to the shower, hoping a dousing of cold water would snap him out of his onrushing panic attack. He knew he wasn't going to make it when the room tilted violently and his shoulder hit the cold hard tile of the floor. The cool, solid surface helped to steady his dizziness and he managed to drag himself to the wall and ease into a sitting position as a wild feeling of terror struck him like a freight train, plowing through what defenses he had left and leaving him struggling for breath as sweat saturated his shirt. He didn't hear the door open or Callen and Sam come in, he simply tried to hold on as flashing images of that dark cell and the haunting feel of Jürgen's hands on his body choked everything else out of his mind.

A cold washcloth pressed against the back of his neck brought him back to some semblance of reality and he took a shaky breath. The roaring in his ears lessened slightly as he sensed someone sitting on either side of him and he opened his eyes as panic rose in his throat.

"Please, don't," he pleaded softly, fearing that it was the Afrikaners come to tie him up again and he didn't think he could bear that.

"Deeks, it's us," Sam's soft voice filtered through the blinding fear and he mentally clung to the sound.

"We're not going to hurt you Deeks," Callen said, his voice strong and firm and he desperately wanted to believe him.

"Are we alone?" he managed to ask.

"Just the three of us sitting on the floor in the men's locker room in OSP," Sam said as he held the cold washcloth against Deeks' heated skin.

"We won't let anyone near you," Callen said. "You're safe."

"Like that day on the plane," he whispered with relief. "I remember you all standing guard so I could sleep. I hadn't felt that safe for the longest time."

He brought his hands to his face then as the two men sat calmly by his side and slowly his mind righted itself. How they had known what was happening to him, he didn't know, but their presence eased the wild beating of his heart and he was able to take a couple of deep breaths. Callen draped a warm towel around his shoulders and his chills began to subside, bringing a touch of embarrassment that they had to see him like this.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"You don't have to go back there, Deeks," Callen said. "If it's too much, everyone will understand."

He grew angry as Callen spoke and he laughed harshly, startling the two agents.

"I have to go back," he said roughly. "If I don't, I'll never get past what Jürgen and Granger did to me there."

"We'll be right there with you," Sam said and gripped his forearm.

Deeks looked down at Sam's massive hand on his arm and realized he hadn't flinched or pulled away from his touch and he closed his eyes briefly, thankful for small victories.

"It won't be easy, Deeks," Callen cautioned. "You might suffer more panic attacks if you go back."

"I know, but I have to go," He said quietly, letting go of his knees and stretching his legs out in front of him. "I really don't remember much about that town except what you told me in Germany, Sam. When I escaped I tried to get there, but I never made it."

Sam felt him shiver at the memory, knowing what had happened to him after he was recaptured.

"You remember the two little boys?" Callen asked.

"Thuso and Dikobo," he said, smiling softly. "I'll never forget them. I need to go and thank them. They deserve that."

He pulled the washcloth from around his neck and buried his face in it for a few minutes before dropping it and pushing himself up from the floor. Sam and Callen helped him stand and he thanked them as he followed them out. Kensi stood waiting anxiously outside and it surprised him that she hadn't come into the locker room.

"You okay?" she asked as she took his arm.

"Yeah," he said. "Just a little panic attack to start the day off right."

She punched him softly on the arm as he laughed.

"Not funny, Deeks," she said quite seriously.

He returned to his desk under the watchful eyes of all of them and he felt the first stirring of anger. He steeled himself to take their scrutiny, but was thankful when they were called up to Ops, letting him head for the gym where he could relieve the tension and anger that was slowly building. He began pounding the heavy bag, not sparing his right hand until a throbbing pain traveled up his arm and left him panting, which only increased his anger.

"Mr. Deeks?" Hetty looked shocked when she saw him bending over at the waist, holding his right hand tight against his chest. "What on earth are you doing?"

Hetty moved toward him, but Deeks spun away from her and lowered himself onto a bench, refusing to look at her as he held on to his anger and tried to ride out the pain.

"Care to explain your need to re-injure yourself?" Hetty stood resolutely in front of him, her lips pursed and impatient for an answer.

"Just the thought of going back there sent me into a tailspin," he answered, before looking at her with stormy eyes. "It pissed me off."

"Punishing yourself won't help Mr. Deeks," she said gently and sat down next to him.

"I know, but pounding on something helps with the anger," he said. "Hetty, I feel like I take one step forward and then three steps back, it's so damn frustrating and unsettling."

"Unresolved issues, Mr. Deeks," she ventured.

"You're talking about George again," he said, standing and going back to the heavy bag, wrapping his arms around it.

"Yes, and you won't find peace until you deal with your relationship," she said softly as she came up behind him.

"You sound like Nate," he said with a tentative smile.

"You won't talk to him, so you get to talk to me," she said. "Now come have a cup of tea, Mr. Deeks. You've done enough damage to yourself in here."

He followed her meekly back to her office, passing the others as they made their way out. He tried to avoid their eyes, slightly embarrassed by what they had witnessed earlier, but both men slapped him lightly on the shoulder as they passed, teasing him about being in trouble with Hetty. Kensi managed to trail her fingers down his arm as she passed by, trying to linger, but being told to hurry up by Callen as the two senior agents walked out the doors. She touched her lips with her fingers as she hurried to catch up and he felt his heart jump at the sight of her. When he turned back, Hetty was watching him shrewdly.

"What?" A boyish grin lit his face and she crooked her finger at him as she turned toward her office.

When he was seated in front of her desk, she began to carefully prepare a fresh pot of tea, quietly taking her time and letting him relax as she talked.

"Seeing you just now with Kensi reminded me of your early days as partners," she began. "You had some turbulent times together in the beginning and it took you quite awhile to trust each other. If I remember correctly, there were days neither one of you thought you would make it as partners."

"We did irritate each other a little bit," he said with a crooked grin as she served him a steaming cup of some exotic tea. "Actually, a lot. Her taste in music still drives me nuts."

"I believe it wasn't long after you settled in as partners that you discovered you felt something more," she said pointedly. "But she didn't, did she, Mr. Deeks?"

"She did resist my charms for quite a while," he said, laughing softly.

"But you were persistent and eventually won her over."

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy," he said, his eyes misting at the memories. "She can be pretty stubborn. She didn't want to admit she loved me."

"But you believed she was worth fighting for," Hetty said.

"Of course, but she definitely tested my patience," he laughed. "But I loved her enough to keep pursuing her until she felt the same or die trying."

"Tough to let someone go who you've grown to love, isn't it Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked.

Deeks said nothing as it slowly dawned on him that she wasn't really talking about Kensi.

"George won't give up on you," she said, fixing him with a stare he couldn't look away from. "So why are you giving up on him, Mr. Deeks? Isn't his love worth fighting for? You were willing to die for him in that barn and Jürgen wanted you to deny your love for him, but you refused. Why deny him that love now, Mr. Deeks?"

He stared down into his cup of tea for some time before answering.

"Because I'm afraid, Hetty," he said, his uncertainty plain for her to see. "I'm afraid that connection we had has been broken by what happened and I don't want to face that."

"You're braver than that, Mr. Deeks," she said with fervor. "You owe it to yourself to find out. He offered to be a father to you. Is that something you want to give up on so easily? It's rare to get a second chance, Mr. Deeks and I think you know just how rare his kind of love is. Don't let fear and stubbornness rob you of something so precious and don't let the words of another take that from you, especially someone as reprobate as Wilhelm Jürgen."

"Thanks for the tea, Hetty," he said as he rose, giving her a long look before walking away.

...

...

Deeks nodded at Nell with a shy grin as he took the plane tickets and was surprised by the fierce hug she gave him. Neither one spoke, but he knew she would let the others know what he was doing when the time came so they wouldn't be concerned when he didn't show up for the flight at the end of the week. He had cleared his idea with Hetty, but he had kept his plans a secret, even from Kensi, which had been hard. He knew he needed to do this alone, but he knew if Kensi found out she would want to go with him and he didn't want that and he didn't need anymore lectures about personal safety from Sam. So he'd asked Hetty and now Nell for secrecy and the two women had agreed.

He spent the entire flight in somewhat of a fog, trying not to think of anything except getting there. He was surprised when the pilot announced they were landing in Laramie and sat silently on the plane as the other passengers pulled down suitcases and gathered souvenirs, their laughter and brief conversations floating around them as they pushed toward the exit when the door was finally opened. Still, he did not move until one of the flight attendants asked him if he was all right, finally touching his arm to get his attention. He saw that the plane was completely empty and he apologized to the slightly irritated looking woman as he slowly got to his feet and dragged his small bag out of the overhead bin and then trudged along the narrow aisle and walked out into the jetway. The noise in the terminal hit him like a wave and he stopped briefly as memories of his first time there struck him hard. People bumped into him as he stood silently trying to get himself together and then he saw Elan Hand standing in front of him, a look of concern on his face.

"You okay, Cuz?" he asked as he took the bag from his hand.

"Elan?"

"Hetty thought you might need a ride," he answered, putting an arm around his shoulder and steering him through the flood of people.

The two men didn't speak as they walked out to Elan's truck, although Elan stole glances at him when he got in. As they drove out into the countryside, Deeks stared out at the lush green pastures, the land transformed by the warmth of the early spring and so different from the last time he was here. He shivered at the sudden memory, earning another glance from Elan.

"I didn't tell him you were coming, in case you're wondering," Elan said. "I didn't want to get his hopes up in case you bailed."

Deeks didn't respond right away, letting the sudden lump in his throat settle as the smell of new growth blew in through the open window. He could feel the tension in his muscles slowly ease as they drove, the waving grasses soothing him as they had every time he'd been here. He rubbed his hand over his face and down his beard as his emotions became raw at the thought of never seeing this land again. He couldn't separate George from the land. They were one and the same to him, earthy and real and solid, a gift he had never expected and one he was so afraid he might have lost.

"Can you stop, Elan?" he asked.

Elan let the pickup truck slow, guiding it onto the side of the road until he stopped next to a farm gate. He sat quietly as Deeks got out and walked over to lean on the weathered gate, his eyes scanning the distant hills. He took several deep breaths, silently talking to himself as he tried to find the courage to go on. He was grateful that Elan let him be, but saddened by it all the same. He began to realize just how much he had grown to like the man and then Callen's voice rang through his head and his words spun out before him. He recalled the admiration on the senior agent's face as he'd told him what Elan had done. This man he had spoken so few words to had saved them all. Without his actions that day, he would be dead and quite probably, so would Kensi and Joe and George. He had desperately wanted to believe that giving himself up to Jürgen would have kept them safe, but he knew now that wasn't true. His surrender to Jürgen had only postponed the inevitable, because a man that devoid of humanity would never have let them live. The shock of that truth drove him to his knees.

"Marty?" Elan knelt down beside him as he tried to catch his breath.

"I should have fought him, Elan," Deeks choked out angrily. "I gave up and let him take me and it accomplished nothing. Nothing. If it hadn't been for you he would have killed us all."

"You're wrong, Marty," he said, sitting down next to him. "If you had fought him from the beginning, George wouldn't be at the ranch right now, taking care of the horses and spoiling the dogs. Jürgen would have made good on his threat to kill him and you know it. What you did gave me time to get there, where I should have been all along. You did as much as you could to save them. You made him and his men focus on you and I took advantage of that."

Deeks stared at him for a minute and then moved until his back was against the wooden gate, his arms draped over his knees, unsure if he believed what Elan had just said.

"God, Elan, how can I ever repay you? You saved everyone I love," Deeks said softly.

"Do you really love him, Cuz?" Elan said as he stood up. "Cause you sure as hell haven't been acting like it. You're still family, if you let yourself be and family looks out for one another. You want to repay me, Marty? Then suck it up and go make things right with George, because that old man needs you."

"I never meant to hurt him, Elan," Deeks said as he got to his feet. "I just wasn't sure any of you would want anything more to do with me after what happened."

"Joe said you say that," Elan said, staring out at the field. "George thinks you're angry with him, Marty."

Deeks looked down at the ground and shook his head, sadness clinging to him as he reached out and put a hand on Elan's shoulder.

"Come on, Cuz. Let's get you home," Elan said as he threw an arm around him and then shoved him toward the truck.

...

He stepped out of the pickup truck and stood silently, unsure of his feelings, almost holding his breath in anticipation of the unknown reception he might receive. He had expected the dogs to rush him, but they were nowhere to be seen and he watched as Elan walked up the steps to the door. Jim Littleshield opened it and stepped onto the porch, nodding solemnly to him as he went into the house. Jim moved slowly down the steps and Deeks waited as if he was coming to pass sentence on him.

"He's in the barn," Littleshield said and Deeks nodded slightly in response.

"Thanks."

"I knew you'd come," Littleshield said. "He wasn't sure, but I knew. He's been waiting a long time."

Deeks turned toward the gate to the corral and took a few tentative steps toward it, wondering what to say, uncertain if he needed to say anything. Littleshield raised his chin toward the barn and motioned for him to go on and he did, somehow needing that small push just to keep moving. He paused at the gate, taking a moment to look across the pasture, searching for Sheila's familiar shape out by the stand of birch trees, their new leaves brilliant green in the late afternoon sun. He knew he was stalling, but he longed for that sense of calm the big mare always brought him and he was disappointed when he didn't see her. He swallowed hard and when he heard the front door close, he knew they had left him alone to do what he needed to do. He looked out toward the barn and he felt the first prickling of sweat break out beneath his collar, but he ignored it as he walked through the gate, latching it firmly behind him, closing off his escape route, forcing himself forward.

The walk brought the memories back and he felt his right hand begin to shake. He quickly ran it through his hair, trying to steady himself and to slow down his racing heart. Halfway there, he looked up to see the curious faces of two of the dogs appear at the entrance to the barn. They didn't bark and he smiled slightly as he saw their tails begin to wag. Stinker, the black and white Border Collie trotted easily toward him, followed by Toby, the cattle dog. They greeting him quietly, wagging their tails and circling him as they sniffed his shoes and the bottom of his jeans. Their calm acceptance made the day seem like any other and he continued his walk to the barn. He thought he was going to make it without incident, but as soon as he reached the entrance his heart began to pound and he staggered as the first flash of memory struck him and stunned him with the mental pain it brought. He reached for the doorway, needing to grab onto something as his head began to spin, causing him to stumble as he entered the dim confines of the barn. The old familiar smells calmed him briefly, but his first glimpse of the post that George had been tied to sent a wave of nausea coursing through his body and the panic attack struck with such force he had to grab the post just to stay on his feet. He pressed his forehead into the post as he stood clutching it, the blinding images slamming into his mind, blotting out everything. He couldn't control his breathing and began to pant, moaning as the unwanted visions wouldn't leave him alone. Then he felt strong hands grip his shoulders and he turned around quickly, fearing he would come face to face with the man who inhabited his nightmares.

"Please don't hurt him," he begged, caught in the past terror he had tried so hard to forget.

"It's me, son," George said as he brought a comforting, calloused hand up to Deeks' face.

"George?" He stumbled toward him and George pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly as the world spun out of his control. Tears streamed down his face and Deeks clung to the solid strength of the man, afraid to let him go, afraid he would lose him to the nightmare in his head.

"Hold onto me, son," George said firmly. "Hold onto me."

...


	38. Chapter 38

**Vengeance: Chapter 38**

...

The sound of a dog barking cut through the crushing, fear filled flashback, slowing the spinning darkness holding him captive. He felt strong arms holding him up, half dragging him and he thought he should resist, but his strength was gone. The incessant barking caused him to focus and then the musky smell of hay and horses cleared away some of the fog as he felt himself being released. When his back hit the wall his mind began to come back to reality and he noticed he was sitting in a pile of hay in the corner of a stall and then a warm, wiggling dog climbed up on his chest and began licking his face.

"Boo," he whispered. "You're getting big."

Then he remembered. He remembered that it had been George's strong arms that had held him up when the panic attack had struck. George had caught him when he thought he would fall, ensnared by the dark memories and abject fear of loss that haunted him daily. The man he'd feared would reject him had offered his strength instead, had held him when he needed it most and that simple act gave him hope. He looked up as George pulled the young dog off of him, but then Sheila pressed her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around the big mare's head as he shook off the last vestige of his panic.

"I'm so sorry, George," he choked out, afraid of what he might see in his eyes if he looked at him.

"What are you sorry for, son?" George asked gently, placing a rough hand on his shoulder.

"All of it," he answered.

"None of it was your fault, Marty," he said. "Don't take that on yourself like before."

Deeks noted a hint of anger in his voice and it made him look sharply at him, searching to see if it was directed at him as he had expected. He watched as George walked over to the half-door to the stall and leaned over it, staring out into the barn. He quickly pushed Sheila back and stood up, unsure what to say or what to do.

"Sheila looks good," he said hesitantly. "And Boo's sure grown."

"They missed you," George said.

"Are you okay, George?" Deeks asked.

"Hetty told me you've been having a lot of panic attacks," he said, ignoring the question.

"Yeah. I don't really remember much afterward," he said softly, turning back to throw an arm over Sheila's back and run his hand down her shiny neck. George was silent and it slightly unnerved him.

"I wasn't sure if I would be welcome here after everything that happened," he finally said, hating the awkwardness he was feeling.

"Why would you think that, son?" he asked.

"This place had become a haven for me, George," he said wistfully. "But I brought hell down on it and on you and your family and I'm not sure I can forgive myself for that."

"Bullshit," George snorted, turning to glare at him.

"I put all of you in danger, especially you," Deeks said, trying to make him understand.

"No. I let you down, son," George said, sadly shaking his head. "I shouldn't have let him take me. He used me to get to you and that's been hard to live with. Watching him beat you like that nearly killed me."

"He had four men with him, George," Deeks said gently. "I know you're tough, but you didn't stand a chance against that many armed men."

"When I finally got to you in that field, I thought you were dead," George said, his lip quivering slightly as he spoke. "Your face was covered in blood and your body was so cold you were almost blue. I didn't know what to do, son. I could hardly move I was so afraid I'd lost you. When Kensi told me you were alive I felt nothing but rage for the man who had done that to you."

"Callen told me what you did," Deeks said, still unable to close the space between them.

"Do you blame me for what I did to that sorry excuse for a human being?" George asked angrily. "Is that why you refused to see me in the hospital or even talk to me on the phone all these months? That bastard needed to be destroyed. He needed to be put down like the rabid dog he was."

George turned away from him and grabbed onto the top of the stall door and stood shaking until Deeks reached him and put his hand on his back, helping to ease the tension rippling through his muscles.

"No, George, I don't blame you," Deeks said softly. "But, killing a man changes you. I know how that feels and I hate that you had to do that because of me."

"I told that bastard you were my son and that I loved you and that you loved me like a father," George said slowly. "Is that true, Marty? Do you? Because if you don't, then nothing else matters. I'm not sorry we killed that sonofabitch. He deserved it, but if I've lost you because of it, I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with that."

"I thought you'd want nothing more to do with me after what you had to do," Deeks said quietly, his heart pounding as he spoke. "George, you're been more of a father to me than my real dad ever was. I'm sorry I shut you out. I didn't mean to hurt you, I just couldn't believe you would still care about me after seeing what I let Jürgen do to me."

"What the hell are you talking about, son?" George turned around to face him, confusion in his eyes.

"My dad always told me I was weak. He said it was one of the reasons he beat on me so much. He wanted to toughen me up. Thought I was a mama's boy, as he called it. And Jürgen...Jürgen told me fathers can't tolerate weakness in a son, so when I gave in to him..." Deeks' voice trailed off, his emotions becoming uncontrollable as he collapsed against the wall of the stall.

"And you believe that?" George asked, reaching out his hand to clutch Deeks' arm. "You think what you did was weakness?"

Deeks just looked at him, seeking what he needed, but unsure of what he would hear.

"My God, Marty, don't you think we knew what you were doing?" George asked roughly. "We knew you were trying to protect us from that bastard. It was the bravest thing I've ever seen."

Deeks dropped his head and closed his eyes, suddenly drained of all the anxiety that had been plaguing him. He rubbed his eyes and then looked up as George put his arm around him.

"I don't want to lose you, George," Deeks said quietly.

"And you never will," George replied. "We're family, remember?"

Deeks nodded silently.

"I wanted him dead, Marty," George whispered. "I wanted to make sure he could never hurt you again and I wanted him to suffer like he'd made you suffer."

"Killing isn't easy though," Deeks said. "It shakes you to the core, especially the first time. It's bothering you, isn't it?"

"Been having nightmares," George said, suddenly pushing away from the wall and walking over to stand next to Sheila, his hand absently stroking her shoulder.

"Remember what you told me when you found me in that hospital bathroom in Germany?" Deeks asked. "You said 'I'll be strong for you, if you'll be strong for me'."

Deeks walked up behind George and put both hands on his shoulders and he felt the old rancher tremble slightly and he felt another rush of emotion he wasn't sure he could control. He'd never seen George this vulnerable and he silently cursed himself for shutting him out all this time.

"I'll try to be strong for you now, George," he said. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long."

"Don't shut me out, son. I need you," he said as he leaned against the big horse.

"I'm here for you, George," Deeks said softly. "But I need you too. I was so sure you would reject me that I think I was just trying to protect myself from that. It would hurt too much and I can't take anymore hurt."

George turned around then and wrapped Deeks in a powerful hug that surprised him and then caused him to smile as he hugged the old rancher back with as much strength as he had. His eyes watered with tears and he clung once again to the man who had made such a difference in his life.

"God, George, you mean the world to me," Deeks managed to say before pulling back and dropping his head to his chest, wanting to tell the man what he was feeling, but finding it difficult.

"Something you want to say to me, son?" George asked kindly, seeing the struggle he was going through.

"I need to tell you a story about me and my dad." Deeks said huskily, but resolute.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"When I turned eight, my dad had been off the bottle for a while and decided to take me on a camping trip," Deeks began. "He'd never even talked about camping before, so I was surprised and pretty excited. My dad didn't take me places very often and it was just going to be the two of us, so I couldn't even sleep the night before."

Deeks stopped talking and wrapped his arms around Sheila's neck, taking a deep breath before going on.

"Anzo Borrego State Park." he said quietly. "I'll never forget that name. It was pretty desolate where we camped, but I didn't care cause I was with my dad, so I was bouncing around like a maniac, asking questions about everything and having a great time. I remember the two of us building a campfire together and he hugged me and I told him I loved him."

Deeks seemed to lose his voice at that point and George put a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't have to tell me this, Marty," George said.

"I need to. I need you to understand," he answered. "Just before sunset another couple came by and asked if they could camp by us and my dad said it was okay and we ended up having dinner together. Then the booze came out and everything changed. My dad was a mean drunk and I knew what was gonna happen, so I hid in the tent. He started arguing with the guy and then hit him, hard, real hard. The woman started screaming and I ran out to try and stop my dad before he hit her too, but he saw me coming and backhanded me and then started yelling at me. The woman managed to get the guy up and they took off. Then I was alone with my dad. He beat the shit out of me, George and then he left me there."

"Sonofabitch," George said softly.

"I've never told anybody this before, not even Kensi," Deeks said, looking embarrassed before he swallowed hard and continued. "When I came to, he was gone and I crawled into my sleeping bag until morning. I had no idea what to do or which way to go, so I just started walking, hoping to find somebody, anybody except my dad. I was scared to death, George. That afternoon a couple of hikers found me and took me to the ranger station. I still hate the desert and don't go there unless I'm forced to."

"What happened to your dad?" George asked.

"Nothing," he answered. "He must have talked his way out of it somehow. He was good at that."

Deeks turned to look at George, his face open and still.

"It was the last time I ever told my dad that I loved him," Deeks said softly. "The only other person I've ever said those words to is Kensi and now you. I love you like a father George, but I can never call you dad. That word is too hard for me to say to anyone else, because when I say it, I see him."

"I love you too, son," George said and nodded, his eyes misting as he smiled at him. "We have a special bond, me and you. We may not be related by blood, but there was a deep connection between us almost from the beginning and I don't want anything or anyone to break that. I don't care what you call me, Marty. It's not important, but please don't pull away from me again. I couldn't bear that."

Deeks nodded and smiled softly, feeling calm for the first time since getting on the plane to come to the ranch. George's strong hand gripped the back of his neck as they left the stall together and he suddenly felt lighter somehow. He found himself inhaling the smells around him, letting them bring back good memories of the first time he'd walked inside, wondering what a city boy like him was doing in a big old barn that smelled like leather, hay and horse poop. He glanced out the back door, but only briefly, not wanting to think about what had happened out there, but he shivered slightly anyway. Boo ran ahead of them, bumping into Joker, who playfully nipped at the big puppy as Stinker and Toby raced for the house.

"I was afraid this place had changed," he said quietly. "It had come to feel like home to me and I was worried Jürgen being here would spoil it."

"This old place was here long before that bastard ever set foot on it," George said roughly. "My ancestors homesteaded this land, and it's where Josie and I started our life together. It's my haven, too and I won't let that sick bastard run me off it."

Deeks let the matter rest, but he couldn't help but look back toward the barn before they went into the house, knowing he still had fears to face, fears he knew were waiting in that meadow behind the barn, the dark, unrelenting ones that inhabited his nightmares.

...

...

He slipped out silently after the fire had died down and the others had gone to bed. He had thrown a light jacket over his sweatshirt, knowing it would be chilly out, especially where he was going and he was already shivering just thinking about it. Boo had tried to follow him, but he'd ordered her to stay inside and she'd obeyed, but had whined nervously as he left, and he could hear her scratching at the door as he stepped off the porch. The wind came up as he started across the uneven ground toward the barn, the pale cast from the full moon lighting his way. He pulled the jacket tighter as a gust caught him and he felt a chill as it hit the sweat at the back of his neck, sending a shudder down between his shoulder blades and causing him to stop briefly and reconsider what he was doing. He had always known he was going to have to face his fears alone, but now that he was actually standing in front of the barn, he wondered if he was ready.

"Get your shit together, Deeks," he mumbled to himself as he mentally forced his feet to start moving again.

The soft light in the barn made him feel slightly warmer, even though the temperature wasn't much higher inside. He was pleased he hadn't had another panic attack just walking inside, but he knew it was still a possibility the closer he got to the meadow. He felt his hands shaking as he forced himself to walk through the barn, trying not to let the memories overcome him, but the deeper inside he got, the harder it became to keep moving. His heart started beating faster as soon as he stepped out the back door and after taking a couple of deep breaths to try and steady himself, he was suddenly in the middle of a flashback, not able to breathe at all and it rocked him.

"No, no, no, not now," he gasped, stumbling forward as the sound of the wind in the trees added to his full blown fear that Jürgen was somehow still here hunting him and laughing at his feeble attempts to catch his breath. He crashed into one of the massive cottonwoods and his panic attack blew up into a living nightmare. He pushed on in spite of the flashbacks, sure that Jürgen was behind him, sure that the others were dead and that no matter what he did, Jürgen would drag him to the ground and press all the air out of his lungs with those hated, possessive hands.

"Fuck you, Jürgen!"

He screamed it as loud as he could but the rising wind blew the words away and he shouted out more curses as tears stung his eyes. He staggered on toward the meadow, running now as the wild cry of some animal instantly transported him back to that dank cell and the horrors he couldn't seem to escape. He stumbled into the creek and gasped as the cold water hit him, waking him from his panicky state and leaving him shivering on the far bank.

"I won't let you take this place from me, you sonofabitch," he shouted as he crawled up to the barbed wire fence and began to force his way through it, not noticing as it tore at his hands. He ended up on his stomach on the other side, but fought his way to his feet as high yips and howls erupted from behind the tree line above him. He saw the blur of moving bodies and it made him focus, bringing him back to the here and now as the animals began to spread out in front of him, some shying away, but others snarling as he made his way up the slope. He berated himself for not bringing his gun as the coyotes moved and circled, always watching him with their pale yellow eyes.

"Go away," he shouted, but his words made no impact and the pack grew bolder as he made his way farther up into the center of the field. A blur of grey fur flashed by his leg and he felt the weight of the animal as it brushed against him. He put his hands out as if to warn the coyote off and saw they were bloody from the barbed wire and he felt the first flush of real fear that he might be in trouble. He slowly began to back away, but the pack moved with him, keeping the distance between them the same. He knew if he turned to run they would be on him, so he continued backing down the slope he had just fought so hard to reach.

The sound of a rifle fired from behind him made him jump and he heard a yip of pain as the echo reverberated down the valley. Several more shots sent the pack scurrying back into the trees, howling their warning cries as they scattered.

"Joe told me you were an idiot and now I believe him," Elan said as he stepped through the barbed wire fence before turning to hold the bottom strand down with his boot to make an opening for George and Jim Littleshield, who followed.

"What the hell were you thinking, son?" George asked, a bewildered look on his face as he walked up to him, assessing the state he was in. "You're soaking wet."

"Yeah. Took a header into the creek," he said, laughing as he tried to hide his hands behind his back.

Elan shook his head and grabbed his arm, pulling his left hand out from behind his back and shining a flashlight down on it. Some of the cuts were deep and bleeding and Elan handed the flashlight to his uncle and pulled out a handkerchief, calmly wrapping the makeshift bandage around Deeks' palm.

"You want to show me the other one?" Elan asked.

Deeks sheepishly held out his right hand and was amazed to see that it wasn't shaking. George took out his handkerchief and wiped off some of the blood before quickly wrapping it over the jagged cuts.

"Those coyotes could smell the blood, you know," Jim Littleshield said with a soft grin.

"I figured that," he answered.

"You came out here without your gun, didn't you?" Elan asked, shaking his head again. "That pack could have taken you down, you dumbass."

"You sound just like Joe," Deeks said, wincing at the pain as Elan tightened the bandage.

"Joe would kick your ass if he was here," Elan replied.

"Hell, Marty, I want to kick your ass myself," George said, but he didn't sound convincing, just worried.

"I have to face this by myself," Deeks said, pulling away from Elan's grip.

"No you don't," George said softly.

Deeks turned away from them then, walking back up the hill, trying to find a place to bury his fears. He thought they would let him be, but he was wrong, hearing their shuffling footsteps behind him as he walked the windswept meadow, searching for something he couldn't even name.

"Tell me what he said," Deeks said, shivering as the wind whipped around him.

"He asked if you were dead," George said, moving up behind him to drape his coat over Deeks' shoulders. "When I told him no, he looked angry and then real surprised when he saw I was gonna ride him down."

"This isn't your land, is it?" Deeks asked.

"No. This meadow belonged to my neighbors," George answered. "He had them killed."

Deeks ran his bandaged hand through his wild hair, shaking his head back and forth as his emotions raged. He started pacing then, growing more agitated as he sought answers he wasn't sure he would ever find.

"He's not here, Marty," Littleshield said gently. "The coyotes scattered his bones and ate what was left."

Deeks sat down on the ground then and crossed his arms over his knees, dropping his head down as remembered pain clawed at him. He fought to let go of the sense of worthlessness and defeat that Jürgen had tortured him with and to scatter all of his rage and hatred, as the coyotes had scattered that madman's bones. George knelt down next to him and he could feel the presence of the others as they stood close by and he felt protected. Warm tears sprang in his eyes when he realized how much comfort he felt just having the three men around him, proving their words that he was family to them. He began to breathe easier and started to look around at the ghostly hillside, his mind clear for the first time in so long.

Slowly the realization grew within him that he was proud he had been able to endure all of Jürgen's torture and pain. The bastard had hurt him badly, had almost killed him, but he had cheated Jürgen out of his one desire, to see him die under his hands. With the help of his newfound family he had survived everything and he was here now, alive, sitting on Jürgen's grave and that made him laugh out loud.

"You lose, asshole," he shouted out, startling the three men.

He heard George suck in his breath, but then he reached for him, helping him up off the ground and they stood facing each other as the wild cries of the coyotes echoed in the distance.

"You saved me," he said softly, looking at each man in turn.

"We beat him together, son," George said as he threw his arm around his shoulder and turned him toward home.

...


	39. Chapter 39

**Vengeance: Chapter 39**

...

This was the first day he had come out to the creek alone and then only because he hadn't had a panic attack over the past two days and Elan had taken his side against George. The two men had grown closer since he'd been back, Elan saddling Sheila without being asked and leading her out to the gate so Deeks didn't have to enter the barn. This morning, he told Elan and George he would saddle her himself and George had worriedly cautioned him against it. Deeks insisted he needed to do it and Elan had backed him up and George had given in when Jim Littleshield refused to take sides. He knew they would all be watching as he made his way to the barn and he tried not to hesitate as he entered.

It was Sheila's whinny that distracted him from getting caught up in the dark memories, but then she kicked the door to her stall and everything came flooding back. He had tried to focus on that sound while Jürgen had slowly choked him that day and the memories of that terrible struggle, the pulsing pain in his ankle and the powerful blow to the base of his spine became vivid as he stood in the hushed confines of the barn. He froze as the harsh memories washed over him, but he felt no panic and no flashback sent him spiraling back into darkness. This time he had just let them pass through his mind and Sheila's second call made him look at her as she tossed her head, anxious to be off and suddenly so was he. He grabbed his hat and shoved it down on his head, smiling at the big mare's antics. He took a deep, measured breath and slowly let it out, feeling as if he had finally reclaimed this place and slightly amazed he was still standing. His mind brushed briefly over the image of Jürgen that still resided in the back of his mind, but his face and his smell seemed more distant now, and he felt no hint of imminent danger. He wasn't stupid enough to push his luck, so he quickly saddled Sheila and urged her out of the barn and past the gate toward the creek.

Boo had come running as soon as he was let out of the house and bounded into the creek without a moment's hesitation, surprising Deeks and easing a laugh out of him. Deeks still watched her carefully, remembering how she'd fallen in when she was little and he'd had to rescue her. This time, she scrambled out on her own, with a stick firmly gripped in her teeth, shaking water all over Deeks as he knelt to take it from her. Both of them settled down against the trunk of the downed cottonwood tree and the wet half-grown Lab immediately climbed into his lap and let out a long sigh before sleep took her. Deeks shook his head as his jeans slowly became soaked with creek water, but he did nothing to disturb the sleeping dog, enjoying how contented she made him feel, almost normal. He pulled the old straw cowboy hat down over his long, unruly hair so it rested low over his eyes and leaned back, listening to Sheila crop the new grass and snort occasionally, while his eyes roamed over the familiar landscape and his mind wandered. Now, as he sat looking at the waving willows along the creek, he felt that old familiar feeling of calm this place had always brought him. Closing his eyes he drifted off to sleep and only started awake when Boo whined softly and scrambled off his lap.

"Want some company?" George's voice called from behind him.

"Did you bring lunch?" he asked, getting to his feet and turning to see all three men riding up.

"You hungry again this soon?" Littleshield asked. "It's only been a couple of hours since breakfast."

"He could use more food, Uncle Jim," Elan laughed. "Look how skinny he is. Kensi probably takes him down without breaking a sweat."

"Stay out of my love life, Elan Hand," Deeks said lightly, his face breaking into a crooked grin.

"The smartass is back," Elan laughed.

George tossed him an apple and he only managed a couple of bites before Sheila tried to take it from his hand. He protested, but not convincingly and soon the big mare was happily finishing it off.

"She's eating for two now," Jim Littleshield said with a smile.

"What?" Deeks asked.

"We bred her last month to a chestnut Morgan I raised," Jim answered.

"Sheila's pregnant?" Deeks was stunned and slowly reached out and gently touched her soft muzzle, causing her to step toward him. "Is it okay for me to be riding her?"

"You can ride her about six more months," he answered. "Don't worry, Marty, you aren't hurting her or the foal."

"When will she have the baby?" Deeks appeared to be mesmerized by the news and his voice softened as he asked questions.

"Next year, late February or early March, depending on if it's a colt or a filly," Jim told him.

"You okay, Marty?" George asked, noticing how quiet Deeks had become.

A brilliant smile lit his face as he continued to stroke Sheila's neck.

"I'm surprised," he said. "First Joe and Diane and now Sheila. It gives me something to look forward to."

George and Elan exchanged guarded looks at his comment, concerned for his state of mind about his future.

"You want to name the foal?" Littleshield asked.

"Really?" he asked eagerly. "I've never named a horse before. What did you name yours, Jim?"

"Red," he answered and saw Deeks look over at Elan.

"Crow," Elan said with a smile and then laughed at the odd look on Deeks' face.

"You named your big black horse after a little bird?" Deeks asked.

"Same color, Cuz," Elan said. "We're riding over to look at a couple of mares. You want to come along."

"No thanks," Deeks said quietly. "I want to let this place sink in a little more before I have to leave."

George seemed to sense the melancholy Deeks was suddenly experiencing and begged off the ride to stay close to him. He watched Deeks as the two men kicked their horses into a gentle lope and headed down the path along the creek. Deeks looked back at him with an embarrassed smile and lowered himself back down to the ground, covering his eyes with his hat.

"You want to talk about what's bothering you, son?" George asked as he walked around the end of the fallen tree and sat down on it.

"I'm not sure I want to go to South Africa," Deeks replied.

"Too hard?" George asked.

"Yeah. Something like that," Deeks answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

They sat silently for a little while, watching Boo until she wore herself out chasing after ground squirrels.

"You never told me about the two little boys," George said easily.

Deeks took the hat off his head, roughly scratching and tousling his thick, blond hair. He sighed deeply and rubbed his face with both hands, finally looking down at them as he draped his arms over his knees.

"Shit," he said quietly.

"If it's too hard for you to talk about, I understand," George said slowly, reaching down to lay his hand on Deeks' shoulder and feeling the slight flinch when he touched him. Deeks glanced up at him, aware of what he had just unwittingly done and he looked confused and angry at the same time.

"Just thinking about that place affects me," Deeks said angrily. "What kind of reaction will I have if I have to actually drive by it? I've been doing pretty good, George. No nightmares for a while, no panic attacks for the last two days and then you touched me while I was thinking about them and that place and I couldn't help myself. I flinched and that pisses me off."

"Tell me about them, Marty," George urged. "Not the place, just the boys. What were they like?"

He was quiet for a bit and then he laughed softly as he wiped his eyes. His first words came out hushed and low and George could tell from the tremor in his voice just how emotional he was getting as he recalled the first time he'd seen the two Sotho boys.

"Thuso's eyes got so big when he saw me," Deeks began. "I'm surprised he didn't pee his pants. I must have looked pretty scary to him. I could tell he was trying to decide what to do about me."

Each sentence was broken by long pauses as Deeks recounted the small boy's actions.

"He was probably seven or eight and skinny," Deeks said wistfully. "He was wearing these bright blue shorts with a red and green tee shirt and I remember that his right knee was skinned. He had the softest voice, but he talked really fast when he was discussing me with his friend Dikobo. His hands would move all around and he would point at me as he talked."

He stopped his story for a while and George didn't push him.

"Dikobo was a little older, taller and stronger too, but Thuso was definitely the leader," Deeks said. "Dikobo was the one who climbed up on the bars of the cell to give me water. It was in an old Coke bottle and it was the first water I'd had in three or four days. His smile was so big when I thanked him. He was so proud of himself..."

Deeks voice trailed off as he choked up at the memory.

"God, George, those two little boys were so brave," he whispered. "They came back all three days to feed me and give me water. I don't think I would have made it without them. Then one of the guards came in and caught them helping me and he started beating on Thuso."

Deeks stopped again and then stood up and George could see how angry he was. He turned toward George and his eyes were stormy and wild as he struggled with his emotions.

"I killed him," he said harshly. "I killed that guard with my bare hands. I couldn't stand watching him hit that little boy, George. I couldn't stand it. I hated him for doing that and I wanted him dead."

His breathing was becoming ragged as tears shone in his eyes and a sudden, terrible look of understanding crossed his features and he grabbed George's arm, gripping it tightly.

"Is that how you felt George?" he asked desperately. "When you killed Jürgen?"

George nodded slightly and Deeks took a step closer and wrapped his arms around him, neither one saying a word, just holding on to one another, each knowing and understanding what the other had done and deepening the bond they shared. When they finally parted, Deeks wiped his eyes and leaned back against the old tree and took a deep breath.

"Will you come with me to South Africa?" he asked. "I have to go and see those two boys, but I don't think I can do it alone."

George nodded again and the two men silently mounted their horses and turned back toward the barn.

...

...

Deeks couldn't wait to get off the plane, pushing against the people in front of him and earning angry stares from some of the passengers. He knew his agitated state was affecting George and it made him even more concerned for the day ahead. The nightmare he'd suffered during the flight had left him afraid to sleep during the remaining seven hours of flight time and now exhaustion tugged at him as he entered the crowded terminal. Only George's firm grip on his shoulder stopped him from rushing outside, desperate for a breath of real air and to rid himself of the claustrophobic feeling that was choking him. He hadn't had a nightmare for over a week and to have one on the plane had shaken his resolve to continue, making him uncertain and shaky. George's comforting hand on his back had gotten him through customs, but he began to sweat as they walked toward the exit and the only thing keeping him moving was the need to be outside in the sun.

"Mr. Atwood?"

"Hello, Mack," George said, dropping his bag and wrapping the young man in a breath stealing hug, leaving the liaison a little shocked, but laughing.

"Hi Mack," Deeks said softly, pleased to see a familiar face.

Mack stared at Deeks before realizing who he was.

"Oh my god, Marty, I didn't recognize you with all that hair," he said, smiling widely and enthusiastically shaking his hand. "You look great."

"Bullshit," Deeks said, suddenly irritable again.

Mack's face fell at the coldness of the rebuke and George stepped between the two men, giving Deeks a warning look and causing him to back down.

"Sorry, Mack. It was a long flight," Deeks said regretfully.

"Sure, Deeks, no problem," Mack said, but still wary of the agent as he turned toward the exit. "I've got a car waiting. Everyone else flew in late last night and will be waiting for us at the ceremony. The whole town will be there to greet you."

Deeks stopped walking and it took a minute before the two men realized he wasn't behind them. George felt his absence and turned to see him struggling with his emotions and hurried back to see what had hit him so hard.

"I don't think I can do this, George," he whispered.

"Let's just get out of the airport, son," George said quietly as he gently put his hand on the back of his neck and guided him through the doors.

Two agents stood guard over the car waiting just outside at the curb and George shot a thankful look at the young liaison as he walked Deeks slowly up to it.

"I thought you might like a decent lunch before we head out," Mack said. "So I have reservations at a little cafe. It's one of the best in Polokwane and we can sit outside under the jacaranda trees. It's very peaceful."

Both men watched Deeks carefully as Mack spoke of his plans, hoping it was the break he needed to calm down and get control of himself.

"Sounds good, Mack," George said. "You didn't eat much on the flight, Marty."

"Yeah, sure," Deeks said as one of the agents opened the back door of the Range Rover. He eyed the men suspiciously, but he got in and tried to control his breathing.

Mack chatted amiably as they drove through the small city and Deeks slowly began to relax when they reached the cafe, which was as peaceful and as good as Mack had promised. Mack told a couple of funny stories about trying to pick up nurses based on the tips Deeks had given him in Germany, even getting a couple of laughs for his efforts. The good food and homey atmosphere calmed Deeks down a little, but George could tell he was still edgy and having second thoughts and he decided to draw him out.

"You want to talk about it, son?" he asked after dessert.

"I don't think I can even put it into words, George," Deeks answered as he nervously twisted his napkin around the fingers of his right hand.

"Thuso and Dikobo are quite excited about seeing you again, Mr. Deeks," Mack said earnestly.

"Why are you calling me that, Mack?" Deeks asked, confused by the young man's formality.

"I don't know, you just seem so different than the last time I saw you," Mack said.

"You mean because I'm not beaten all to shit anymore?" Deeks asked roughly.

"No, because you're acting like a dick," Mack said firmly, his face placid as he spoke.

Deeks stared back at him, trying to control himself but failing. A soft smile began to form at the corners of his mouth and he suddenly burst out laughing, causing people at other tables to stare at him. When he finally stopped, Mack looked surprised and George sat shaking his head as he patted Mack on the arm.

"I couldn't have said it any straighter, boy," George said.

"You're right, Mack. I've been a real prick and I'm sorry," Deeks said. "Call me Marty again, okay? Hetty's the only one who calls me Mr. Deeks."

"You got it, sir," Mack said happily. "Just as long as you don't call me Goofy like Mr. Hanna."

"Deal," Deeks said, before becoming serious again. "Mack, is there another road into the town that doesn't go past the prison where I was held? I'm not sure I can handle seeing it again."

Mack looked stricken by the question, swallowing hard as he looked steadily at Deeks.

"Didn't anybody tell you?" he asked.

"Tell me what?" Deeks asked guardedly in return.

"Marty, the ceremony is being held at the prison," he said.

Deeks was up instantly, turning over his chair as he bolted from the restaurant. George shouted at him, but it was Mack who ran after him, catching up to him only when he stopped to lean against the trunk of a coral tree to try and catch his breath. Mack put a hand on his back and Deeks turned and slammed a fist into his face, knocking him to the ground. He reached down and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him to his feet and pushing him into the trunk of the tree, his face flush with rage.

"Why?" Deeks screamed in Mack's face. "Tell me, Mack. Tell me why I was invited. Why did anyone think I would ever want to go back to that fucking place?"

"Marty, stop it," George yelled as he reached them.

Deeks let him go, stumbling blindly away as tears clouded his eyes. George steered him to a bench and he sat down heavily, gasping for air as Mack walked slowly toward him, wiping blood from his busted lip.

"Deeks, listen to me," Mack said as he sat down next to him. "The villagers bought the prison with the money NCIS awarded them. They're turning it into a local marketplace. They want it to benefit all the communities in the area instead of just sitting there as a reminder of the horrible times they lived through. You weren't the only one to suffer in that place, Marty. During apartheid, some of the townspeople watched relatives die in that prison. They know you went through a terrible ordeal there, just like their own people. It's why so many wanted to rescue you."

Deeks turned to look at him, stunned by what he had heard.

"I'm sorry I hit you, Mack," he said quietly as he leaned back against the bench, embarrassed to even look at the earnest young man.

"If you don't want to go there, I'm sure everyone will understand," Mack said sadly. "Thuso and Dikobo will be disappointed, but I'll talk to them and..."

"No," Deeks interrupted him. "No. They were brave enough to help me when I needed it and now I need to be as brave as they were and go back there. I have to tell them what their help meant to me. I need to show them I'm okay. They saved me. Those two little boys and their families, all of them. I remember them cutting me down and carrying me away from that place and..."

His voice failed him and he dropped his head down to his chest as he rubbed the sudden tears from his eyes. George stepped closer to him and put his hands firmly on both of Deeks' shoulders as he collected himself.

"God, I need to thank all of them for that," he finally said.

Mack smiled tentatively as George pulled Deeks to his feet and the three men walked slowly back through the milling crowds of people to the car.

The drive out of the city was mostly spent in silence, except when George asked some question about livestock or water, which Mack answered as best he could. Deeks said nothing, saving his energy and steeling himself to face his deepest fears and darkest memories. He felt chilled as the prison appeared far up the road and he was stunned to realize that he was cradling his right hand tightly against his chest. He slowly let it fall to his lap and took in a couple of shallow breaths as if his ribs were still painful. He expected the place to be as desolate as he remembered, but the closer they got, the more people they saw, walking along the road, either coming or going from the place that haunted his memories. Some were carrying brightly colored buckets and paintbrushes and he saw two men balancing a cell door on a old bicycle as they drove past. There were so many people, Mack decided to park the car and they got out to walk the rest of the way.

"You okay, son?" George asked as they walked.

"I don't know," he answered as a group of laughing children ran past them carrying small brooms.

When they reached the entrance he stopped, placing his hand against the wall, needing to compose himself before going in. Then he saw the rest of the team standing off by themselves on the far side of the inner courtyard and he stood straighter, unwilling for them to see his weakness. George's hand on his back got him moving again and he slowly walked toward Kensi, pleading for her understanding and strength with his eyes. She quickly came toward him and wrapped him in her arms and he felt Sam's strong hand on the back of his neck as they gathered around him.

"Notice anything missing?" Callen asked gently.

Deeks turned to look to where he was pointing, but he saw nothing except groups of people painting and knocking holes in the concrete block walls, creating openings to the cells inside. Most of the bars enclosing the cells were gone and many of the rest were being dismantled. He turned back to question Callen, but then realized what he'd meant and looked back to see three men carrying away the post he had been tied to so tightly. He stumbled back as he felt the panic rising in his chest and his right hand began to throb, his mind instantly filling with the pain of his midnight duel with Jürgen. George knew what was happening and got him quickly over to the wall, easing him down to ground as he struggled to fight what was coming. He panted rapidly as the remembered smell of tobacco sent him spiraling deeper into darkness.

"No, not now, please," he whispered. "Just leave me alone."

He was in his own solitary nightmare, unable to see, unable to breathe or to escape. Then he felt small hands on his face and someone patting his leg and he looked up into the faces of the two little boys who had done so much for him in this place. Thuso's eyes were big with worry as he patted Deek's face. Dikobo was saying something he couldn't understand as he held out a bottle of Coca-Cola.

"Deeks," Thuso said and then patted the hair on his head and smiled.

"Thuso. Dikobo." Warm tears streaked his face as the two boys continued to comfort him. They kept touching his hair and he finally smiled as Thuso began a long monologue as the townspeople gathered around. He had no idea what he was saying, but everyone was respectfully silent as the little boy told his story and Deeks slowly began to come back to himself. Dikobo put the bottle of Coke in his hand and mimed for him to drink and he finally did, the warm taste of something so familiar easing the lump in his throat. When Thuso finished what he had to say, he took Deeks' hand and Dikobo took the other one and they pulled him to his feet, leading him over to a group of women standing by the building.

"Do you remember me, Deeks?" A large woman dressed in brightly colored clothing greeted him with a warm smile. She began to softly hum a lullaby and Deeks' eyes widened as the lost memory returned.

"You took care of me after I was cut down," he managed to choke out.

"We all did," Mosa said as she nodded toward the three other women who stood smiling up at him.

The women began to talk amongst themselves as they surrounded him, touching his arms and chest and closely examining his right hand. One even lifted up the hem of his shirt to look at his stomach, causing him to color slightly and take a step back. The women giggled at that, shushing him as they'd done all those months ago. Kensi came over to stand with him, causing smiles and excited exchanges between the women.

"They've seen you naked, Deeks," she said, causing his blush to deepen.

He took the time to thank each one of the women and had them laughing as he scolded them about seeing him as nature intended. The women were not shy, and continued to admire him and tell him how much better he looked with hair, Mosa doing the translating. He was rescued by Thuso and Dikobo, who took his hands and pulled him away toward the building. He hesitated, but the boys only laughed and pulled harder, Thuso shaking a finger at him, before spreading out his hand toward the place where he'd been imprisoned.

"What's he saying, Mack," Deeks asked as he halted once again.

"He's telling you about his plans," Mack answered. "He wants to sell Coca-Cola from a booth here."

"You're kidding," Deeks said.

"I don't think that should be too hard to arrange, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said as she came to stand next to him. "I know some people."

"I'm sure you do, Hetty," Deeks said, smiling back at her as Thuso and Dikobo pulled him inside.

The bars he had been bound to were still in place and an uncontrollable shiver ran through his body. He could feel the presence of the team and the townspeople around him and knew George was speaking to him, but the sudden roaring in his ears blotted out the words and he stood rooted in place, a few feet from the horror that was now a part of him. He stared blankly at the bars until Thuso and Dikobo climbed up on them and looked solemnly back at him. Thuso patted him gently on the arm and spoke softly to him, while Dikobo's small hand briefly touched his hair and then rested on his shoulder. The understanding on their faces isolated the three of them from the crowd around them. Only they knew what it had been like for him those three, long days.

The bond they shared was deep and his feelings for them could never be expressed, knowing he would never have survived without them. As he looked into their eyes now, he realized just how much he had desperately counted on seeing their faces during that terrorizing time and feeling that small glimmer of hope they brought along with the water and the food. Their kindness had made it possible for him to endure everything Jürgen did to him. They had kept him from complete despair those first few days and he didn't know how to repay them for that and knew he probably never could. He didn't want to remember this place for the pain he'd suffered, but for the two small boys who had disregarded the danger and showed compassion to a stranger. Their exuberant spirit had brightened the darkness that shrouded this place and he thought it was fitting that they should be the ones who would change this evil place and make it into something good.

He slowly wrapped his arms around them and held them close, unable to say anything more than an inadequate thank you.

"Deeks. You are good now," Thuso stated with a huge smile.

He laughed as the boys hugged him tightly, marveling at the conviction in Thuso's young voice and holding on to his pronouncement as a truth that would allow him to move on to the next chapter in his life.

...

...

...

_My heartfelt thanks to all who have joined me on this journey and to those who sent kind words and generous comments and encouragement along the way. I appreciated every review written, whether long or short and I read every one with joy and with amazement at your insight. That you accepted and came to care about the original characters in this story has touched me and I join Deeks in saying an inadequate thank you._


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